Downfall
by alatariel-gildaen
Summary: Sequel to '7 Days and 7 Nights.' When Negan comes between Carol and Daryl's happiness, he sets off a chain of events that are sure to lead to his own downfall.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N -** So this is a new WIP. Yes, yes, I know. I'm a terrible human being. But unlike every other WIP I've ever written, I have *shock* *horror* actually planned this one chapter by chapter, rather than planned a rough story arc and then just spewed words on to the page, hoping for the best. Not promising that that'll make updates happen any sooner, but it's a start at least!

And I promise, I'm still working on TCoH, TLitS and Redemption. They're just taking a little longer than I had hoped. And I *will* still finish AYitL. One day.

So, this is a sequel to the two parter I wrote called "Seven Days & Seven Nights." I'd recommend reading that to know where we're at here. If you don't want to, it's set just after the season 6 finale, so contains my prediction for who was killed by Lucille/Negan. And then was an excuse for me to finally push Carol & Daryl together. And so here we are.

I mean, this is TWD. They're not just going to have such an easy happily-ever-after, after all...

The Negan in this fic is very much based on the comic version by the way. I mean, TV version was very similar, but there's just no way you could have him swearing that much on TV. So I'm warning you now for LOTS of gratuitous swearing. And this chapter comes with my standard smutacular warning too.

So yeah. Once again, I'm sorry for putting Caryl through this. Please hit that review button and let me know what you think. Thanks all :)

* * *

Over the past week and a half, he'd learned that he always woke up before her. Not that she was a late riser, by any stretch of the imagination. But since he'd been a kid, and had been forced to look after himself, waking with the sunrise had come naturally to him.

He nuzzled a little closer towards her, burying his face in the back of her hair. She smelled so damn… _clean._ It never failed to amaze him that even without soap, without hot water, or any of them fancy bottles of lotion women used to favour before the end of the world, she could still smell so good.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, and Daryl squeezed her a little tighter, pressing his lips to the top of her head. She stirred very gently, arching her back into his chest, then stilled once again.

He felt a curious mixture of tentative excitement and fearful anxiety at the turn their relationship had taken over the past few days. Everything was so new, so untested and uncertain. And despite the physical intimacy, Daryl was still unwilling to bet that he wasn't going to just fuck everything up by saying or doing the wrong thing.

Truth was he had very, _very_ little experience when it came to relationships. He'd been with his share of women, sure, but on such a deep and personal level? No, this was entirely new to him.

There was a part of him that kept expecting to wake up, half wondering if he was in some kind of prolonged dream brought about by the painkiller that the doctors at Kingdom had kept him on. It felt impossible to believe that anyone could see past his faults, least of all the woman who he held in the highest regard and who had so deeply played on his heart and mind for the past two years.

But in these moments of peace that they shared, it was entirely possible to believe, however fleetingly, that nothing could ever go wrong, and that they could live their lives happily and safely for years to come.

The slightest of smiles crossed his face at the thought, and he dropped his hand to rest just above her hips as his lips gently ghosted over the smooth lines of her neck. She stirred once more, gently rising out of sleep, a contented hum falling from her lips.

"Mornin', beautiful," he murmured into her ear, and in the half-light of dawn he could make out her sleepy, twinkling smile.

"M-morning," she said, fighting a yawn. "Sleep well?"

"Always do when I'm close to ya. You?"

"Hmmm," she said. "Strange dreams."

"You ok?" he asked, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Ya know it aint real."

"I'm ok," she said. "They weren't exactly nightmares as such. Just… strange. And maybe real. Who knows?"

She fell quiet and pulled Daryl's arm tighter around her. He wondered if he should say something, to offer her some form of comfort against the strange and intrusive dreams. But she seemed happy to just be still and silent. He rested his head on the pillow beside her, drinking in her scent and occasionally placing the lightest and sleepiest of kisses to the back of her head, until the grey dawn light turned warmer and brighter.

"Can I ask you a question, Daryl?" she asked suddenly.

"Sure."

"A personal one?"

This was exactly the kind of thing that was expected of people in relationships, and that he was not used to, by any stretch of the imagination. He swallowed heavily and shifted a little on the bed, but he really didn't want her to sense his discomfort. "Sure," he said after a moment's hesitation.

"Who was the last person you slept with, before me?" she asked.

The question knocked him for six. "Why the hell d'ya wanna know? It aint like I'm ever gonna see her again."

"Just curious," she said, and she raised his hand to her lips, softly placing a kiss on the end of each digit.

The gentle feel of her warm, delicate skin against his fingers sent a pulse of electricity through his veins. He didn't particularly want to talk about any of his past experiences. None of them had ever meant anything, after all. But the touch of her lips weakened his resolve. How could he deny her anything at all, even an answer to such a strange question as this? "I dunno," he said. "Some chick I met at a bar, six, maybe seven months before the world turned to shit. Can't remember her name."

"You went six months without…?"

"Six months? I went two and half years without gettin' laid."

"Yes," she said patiently. "But since two of those years have been spent trying not to die, ' _gettin' laid'_ has hardly been a priority. I'm sure for the first six months you could have had anyone you wanted."

"Pfft," he snorted. "I aint never been much of a hit with the ladies. That was Merle."

Carol laughed out loud; a clear, warm-hearted sound that brought the shyest of smiles to his face. "I can't imagine him ever being a hit."

"I aint sayin' he was a perfect gentleman. I'm sayin' that he knew how to get what he wanted, and get the fuck outta there."

Carol laughed once again, and pulled his arm tighter around her, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she did so.

"Do you think she's still alive? The woman in the bar?" she asked after a moment.

"Why d'you care?"

"I don't really," Carol answered. "I just… I think about it sometimes. Not just the people I knew, but also the people I didn't. The people I'd just pass in the street every day. The ones I'd only met once or twice. Everyone had normal lives once upon a time."

"You think what we had was normal?" he added.

She smiled tightly. "Most people had normal lives then. And so did all the people we've encountered. The Governor. The Wolves. Terminus. The Saviors. They were just… ordinary people. And sometimes I wonder…did any people I used to pass by end up that way? Did that girl you met in a bar? Are they dead, are they walkers, or did they become cold-blooded killers? Or are they still trying to hold on to their humanity in any way they can?"

It was a dangerous way of thinking, one that neither of them could afford right now. To be thinking too closely about the pasts of their enemies? That was the kind of thinking that slowed you down, got you killed.

"I aint gonna think about that," he said. "Nothin' about back then, and nothin' about them people matters. It's us, and it's now. That's all that's important. Aint no point thinkin' any other way."

"But—"

"This what you were dreamin' about?"

"It was," she sighed. "I saw so many people from the past. There was a girl who used to work at our local grocery store. Marie, I think her name was. Or Mary… She was there. She was a sweet girl…ditzy, but… sweet. She always said 'hello' to me, always asked after Sophia. And she was there, executing people without a second thought. And there were others there too, people I knew, one of Sophia's teachers, this guy Ed used to drink with at weekends, people in the neighborhood that I'd see every day but never spoke to… they were walkers. And it could all be true."

"Stop that. We're here. We're now," he repeated. "Fuck everythin' else. Just…be with me."

She linked her fingers though his, and he squeezed her hand gently in response. "You're right," she said after a moment's pause. "You're right. Hold me?"

He shifted his weight closer to her, pressing his chest against the curve of her back. With a contented sigh, she moved his hand to cover her breast and encouraged him to massage the soft mound of flesh. He left a trail of kisses down her neck and she sighed as he did so, rolling her hips back against him. A frisson of electricity shot from his abdomen to rapidly swelling cock, and his heart rate increased as she sucked one of his fingers into her mouth. He felt his cock twitch in response to the tight, wet heat, as the image of her sucking on something else raced through his mind. _"Fuck,"_ he growled, as the thought filled him. But he would never, ever suggest it to her. She took the lead in most everything they did, and he was more than happy for her to do so. If she were to suggest it, then of course he would not turn her down, but until she did…

She turned to face him, and her eyes were dilated, her face flushed. "You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispered reverently, before he crushed his lips against hers, moaning softly as she tangled her fingers into his hair.

She pulled away from him long enough for her to whisper into his ear, "I've got to have you."

"Soon," he said huskily, tracing a finger along the taut muscles of her thigh, making her shiver in anticipation. "You know how this works."

She smiled widely as he rolled on top of her and placed one leg between hers, opening her up to him. Her flat, toned stomach was tense with anticipation and he watched the rise and fall of her breasts with each shallow breath she took. "Please," she begged.

How could he refuse such a request? He descended firstly on her naval, placing a wet, open-mouthed kiss on the silky-smooth flesh, then slowly meandered up her ribcage, until he drew one taut, dusky nipple into his mouth.

"Daryl…yes…" she gasped, her fingers raking through his hair as he sucked and licked at the sensitive bud. He grinned against her flesh before trailing a series of delicate kisses towards her other breast. As his tongue darted out over the swollen nipple, her back arched off the bed, and she continued to whisper his name over and over, her incoherent gasps encouraging him on. He wanted her more than anything, desperate to feel the welcoming wet heat of her surrounding him. But he ignored the impulses of his throbbing cock, determined to make her fall apart before concerning himself with his own gratification.

He lathed a path with his tongue, down between the swell of her breasts, over the plane of her stomach, until he reached the top of her thighs. "Is this ok?" he asked her. She nodded once, and Daryl couldn't help the half-smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. She had been so against him going down on her at first. Thankfully her fears and nerves seemed to have been assuaged, and from the delicious moans and encouragement she gave him, he seemed to have a certain talent for it.

He pressed a series of feathery kisses to her inner thighs, causing her to writhe underneath him, then when he finally ran his tongue along her delicate folds, she bucked against him, gripping his shoulders hard. She carefully wrapped her legs around him, resting them against his lower back, as he hummed his satisfaction against her.

Every movement he made against her was matched by her undulating hips, every swirling motion of his tongue caused his name to fall from her lips, each kiss he pressed to her increasingly wet centre made her grip on his hair harder and tighter.

When he sucked her clit into his mouth, she gasped loudly, her hips rocking hard against his face. Her fingers had wound almost painfully into his hair and she pulled hard as her body arched off the bed. She collapsed back and gently pushed him away from her. Her breathing was heavy and labored, and a flush had spread from her cheeks and down across the top of her chest.

He wiped his mouth across the back of his hand then positioned himself above her. "You still want me?" he said in a low voice.

In response, she hooked one of her legs around him and pulled him closer. When she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and positioned him at her entrance he hissed the single word, " _Fuck…."_ under his breath and nearly collapsed on top of her. So far in their relationship, she had been on top every single time. He supposed it was a safety net for her, that she could stop at any time, so for her to want him in control… his pulse quickened at the knowledge that she trusted him that deeply.

She placed her hands on either side of his face as he pushed against her, sheathing himself in her wet heat. His eyes fell closed as she wrapped her arms tightly across his shoulders, pulling him closer to her. Despite him holding most of his weight on his elbows so as not to crush her, she seemed determined for every inch of her skin to be in contact with every inch of his, and she pulled him down on top of her.

He could feel her trembling slightly beneath him, but she smoothed her hands over his back and whispered, "Please, Daryl. Please."

Her hands dipped lower to squeeze his ass, and it kickstarted him into action. He built up a slow and steady rhythm, spurred on by the mewling, writhing woman beneath him. The sight of her, eyes closed, mouth open, hair spiked and messy from sleep, was almost enough to send him over the edge, and he hungrily kissed her mouth, determined to cement that image of her in his mind forever.

When she rocked her hips upward, making his thrusts drive even deeper, neither of them could contain the gasps that fell from them, and when her lips latched onto the sensitive pulse point just behind his ear, he shuddered as everything around him became charged with tingling electricity. It ran over his skin, and caused the world to firstly slow to halt, then rush forward in a pulsing wave. The only real thing in the world was the goddess beneath him, and the kisses she showered over his face and neck.

He fell forwards on top of her, his pulse pounding heavily in his ears, as she stroked languidly up his back. He could feel her heartbeat pounding hard in her chest, syncopating against his own.

"Wanna stay here all day," he murmured into her ear.

"Sounds good to me," she said in response, and she wrapped her arms lazily around his neck. Her eyes were half closed, and a relaxed half-smile was on her face. He pressed his lips to hers, gently probing her tongue with his own, and he marveled at the feeling of contentment that filled him. Never in his life could he recall feeling so…happy, so safe, so _loved._ It seemed to good to be true.

His intuition was absolutely right. When an enormous bang sounded behind them, Daryl instinctively rolled away from Carol to reach for a weapon. The Saviors had taken all of his weapons, and Kingdom had confiscated Carol's guns on bringing her inside, but she had been allowed to keep her knife, just in case of walkers. Daryl grabbed this and looked up at the door that had burst open, and the safe haven the two of them had built up over the past week and a half came crashing down around him, as a leering man came into their room, pointing a revolver directly at them.

It was Negan. Hatred and rage coursed through Daryl's veins like a poisonous fire, and his grip tightened around the handle of the knife. Every sense of his was immediately on alert, and he shifted his body to keep Carol covered, while she scrabbled with the blankets to try and retain their dignity. Negan grabbed one of the plastic chairs and dragged it into the center of the room, scraping the legs across the floor with a loud screeching sound, and then sat down, his legs stretched in front of him in a relaxed posture. He held the gun loosely in his lap, still pointing in Daryl's direction.

"Now, Daryl, I really hope you aren't going to do anything fucking stupid. I'm just here to talk."

Out in the corridor there were four men carrying assault rifles, and in the midst of them, unarmed and ashen-faced, Rick stood looking more defeated than Daryl had ever known him.

There was no way out of this. Very slowly, he lowered the knife.

"Good boy!" said Negan. "We should throw you a bone!" He began to laugh heartily, and looked back towards his men. "Not that we need to, hey?" He turned back and said in a deadpan voice. "Bone? Get it? _Boner?_ It's a sex joke, so feel free to fucking laugh any time you want. You see, we were just out there listening to you fucking your milf. You see what a good guy I am? Not even interrupting or anything. And I tell you what, I am _so_ fucking hard right now. Tempted to go rub one out. Unless the milf would care to oblige me instead?"

"You stay the fuck away from her," said Daryl in a dangerously low tone. He was shaking with anger, and behind him he could feel Carol seizing up, pressing herself closer into his back, trying to become invisible.

"I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to the milf. What's your name, sweetheart?"

He could feel her ragged breathing and his heart shattered. Violent images raced through his head, the acrid stench of blood in his nostrils. He wanted Negan dead, he wanted Negan to suffer, and he wanted it by his own hands. Carol's demons—those that she was only just beginning to recover from— seemed to have rendered her speechless.

"Pretty fucking sure I just asked you a question, sweetheart," snapped Negan, his voice raising. Behind Daryl, Carol tensed even further. "So we're going to try again. I'm going to ask you a question, and you're going to fucking answer that question. Because if you don't fucking answer, I'm going to start getting fucking angry. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"C-Carol," she replied in a meek voice.

"Carol? _Carol?_ Fuck _off._ Carol and Daryl? Well, fuck me sideways if that isn't just about the cutest fucking thing I've ever heard in my whole fucking life! Like you've just stepped out of a nursery rhyme or some shit. Carol and Daryl, sitting in a tree. F-U-C-K-I-N-G."

Negan paused to laugh at his own joke, while the world collapsed in around Daryl. He couldn't think straight. He was frozen from humiliation and fear; not for himself, but for the woman behind him, for their future together. All the air in the room seemed to have vanished, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to fill his own lungs. Daryl's hand made an almost unconscious movement back towards the knife, but Negan raised the pistol.

"Now, why the fuck would you want to do something as stupid as that? Or do you actually want me to blow little Carol's brains out right now? I know break ups are difficult, but fuck, man. That's cold. And anyway, if you want to end it with her, I've got a way fucking better idea. Carol?" asked Negan. "How would you like to come back with me? And I do mean _come._ Be one of my wives? You'll be safe, you'll be comfortable, you won't want for anything, and you get to fuck the king of the new world on a daily basis."

"No," she choked out, while the fury pounded harder than ever in Daryl's ears. He'd make this son of a bitch pay for his sadistic games if it was the last thing he ever did.

Negan raised his hands in mock defeat. "Well, no harm in asking," he said. "Daryl, you fucking pussy, don't look at me like that, or I'm going to be forced to pull your fucking teeth out one by fucking one. I don't know what kind of fucking monster you think I am, but I'm not going to take a woman against her will. However, that does bring me to the business I'm here to conduct today. Here's the thing. I know that you, personally, are responsible for a fuck load of my best men being dead. Now, I'm a reasonable fucking guy, which is why I only killed one of your people in return. See how fucking nice I am, Daryl? I could have killed every last one of you, and you'd still have taken more of my people. But someone has to replace the men I've lost. And I'm starting with you."

"I aint going nowhere with you."

Negan cocked the hammer on the revolver and once again pointed it at Carol. "Last chance, lover boy."

"I'll go with you, too," Carol said suddenly, and Daryl could feel his heart sinking. "I'm a good fighter. I'll go with you."

"I don't think so, sweetheart," grinned Negan. "We're separating up this fucking beautiful little dream team. No, you're going back to your lovely suburban home, and you're going to fucking stay put like a good little girl. And you're going to help my dear friend Rick make sure you get enough supplies for me. And if you leave that town at all, I'm going to shoot lover boy here in the dick and watch him bleed out. And Daryl? We know exactly where to find your milf, so if you put even so much as a single fucking hair out of line, this bitch is going the same way as your Asian buddy. I really fucking hope I'm clear on this. Basically, you're each other's fucking collateral."

Daryl looked up at the man taunting them. His shit-eating grin was wider than ever on his face, and it could not have been clearer why. Negan had won. Despair filled his heart. This was too much, it wasn't right, it was just too damn _cruel._ But if he had any hope of keeping Carol safe, and of coming back to her, he had no choice. Very slowly, his eyes dropped to the floor, and he nodded.

"Well, fuck me," he said. "You know, I really thought we were going to have to fucking maim someone to get you to agree. And I really didn't want to have to do that again, so well done. Now, get your fucking clothes on. We're leaving."

"Now?" asked Daryl, panic setting in.

"Right now," said Negan. "You've already given the milf a goodbye fuck, so no time like the fucking present."

He swallowed heavily. He needed a moment, even just a minute alone with her. "You gonna give me some privacy?"

Negan laughed callously. "No fucking way! You'll get dressed, here and now, then we'll walk out of here together safe in the knowledge that you're my little bitch and I have the bigger balls. Now hurry the fuck up. My trigger finger's getting itchy. I haven't ruled out maiming someone if I fucking need to."

"I'll find ya again," he said quietly, turning towards her. "We aint over. We aint."

"I know," she choked back, tears silently streaming down her face. She pressed her palm to his cheek, and he closed his eyes at the gentle touch.

There was something else he needed to say, more than anything. Three words he had never uttered to anyone. And now, more than ever he needed to say them. He parted his lips, but his mouth went dry, and his voice failed him.

"Hurry the fuck up, Daryl. I need to get home and get my dick wet, and the longer I have to wait, the more chance there is of someone around here getting hurt."

The moment between himself and Carol passed. Shame overtook fear as his dominant emotion as he left the relative safety of their bed and the blankets that covered him, and crossed the room to where his clothes were discarded in a heap on the floor. In the hallway, he noticed that Rick at least had the good grace to avert his eyes, but he could feel Negan's penetrating gaze on him, making his breathing shallow and panicked. He pulled his pants on as quickly as possible, but as he reached for his shirt, he heard Negan's intake of breath.

"You know, I've got to ask. Those are some fucking impressive lashes you've got, Daryl. You into the kinky shit?"

His body refused to work. He could feel his muscles seizing up with a mix of anxiety, fear, and humiliation as the suggestion that he had somehow _wanted_ his scars wrapped itself around his heart like an iron vice.

"Stop it," said Carol, in a worried tone.

"So you're the kinky bitch that did that to him, huh?"

"Stop it," she repeated, her voice as cold as ice.

The air was thick with tension, and still Daryl was unable to move. He glanced over to the bed, to where Carol was staring at their captor defiantly and he caught her eye, shaking his head the tiniest amount. She hadn't seen first hand what he was capable of, and if she pushed him too far…

"I'm going to allow you to talk back to me that one time," he said in an emotionless voice. "I get it. This is a difficult time for you. But if you talk back to me again, I'm cutting one of his balls off, and I'm going to watch you eat it. Collateral, don't forget. Daryl, if you're not ready to walk out this door in thirty seconds, I'm cutting one of her tits off, and watching you eat that."

The threat roused him from his stupor, and he hurriedly threw his shirt over his head and pulled his boots on, not bothering to do them up at all.

A hand shoved him roughly forwards through the doorway and out into the hall, and as he walked past Rick, the former cop made the briefest of eye contact, and placed a hand on his shoulder. He glanced back towards the room he had shared with Carol for the past week and a half, towards the woman he loved more dearly than anyone he had ever known. She gazed up at him, tears streaking her face, and behind her sadness there was a furious determination. He knew, somehow, that this wasn't the end. He would see her again.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N -** Hey my lovelies! I'm really sorry about how short this chapter is. It's probably the shortest thing I've written in many a year, in fact. But there's little point dragging it out when I've said everything that needs to be said...

Thanks for reading, please hit that review button, and I promise I'll get Carol & Daryl back together ASAP ;)

* * *

She kept her eyes firmly on him until he was manhandled roughly around a corner and out of sight. Only then did she allow the mask to drop. Her head fell forward into her hands and she wept.

She became aware of movement in the doorway, and looked up to see Rick gently pulling the door closed. His face was ghostly pale, and he looked everywhere but at her. "I'll be right out here," he said. "When you… when you're ready. We'll talk."

She said nothing, and he seemed to understand. What possibly could be said? What possible words of comfort, of reassurance could he hope to offer her? When the only person who could have ever brought her back from the brink had just been forcibly removed from her life?

Once alone she collapsed against the bed, and her grief poured from her. Her fingers lightly traced the indentation his head had left in the pillow. She could still smell him all around her, the unique scent of tobacco, pine trees, and motor oil, and she clutched the pillow close to her heart, sobbing until the tears ran dry.

A light knocking on the door caught her attention, and she sat up, still cradling the pillow. "Carol?" came Rick's soft voice.

"J-just a moment," she replied and she quickly pulled on her shirt and pants, and dried her eyes on the back of her hand. She opened the door to Rick, and could see her own pain reflected in his haggard features.

He took half a step towards closer, his arms vaguely reaching towards her. "I'm sorry," he choked. "I—"

His half-hearted platitudes were not what she needed. He had started this war with Negan. He had led the maniac to hers and Daryl's safe haven. Rage boiled up within her and she struck his face a sharp blow with the palm of her hand.

Rick's jaw set hard, his eyes downcast. "I don't blame you for that," he said. "But you have to listen. You have to believe me. I swear we didn't know about… you two… Negan, he showed up just as Morgan and Abe were leaving to collect you to give us a day that he'd return for our supplies, and he demanded to know where they were going. We told the truth, and said that they were going to collect some of our people who had been injured, and… I thought he was going to kill someone else, he was so… enraged. Told us that we weren't taking Daryl, that he belonged to him now. He said that he was headed here himself anyway, and that we could take you back, but Daryl… He brought me along as a bargaining tool; he said that if Daryl refused to go with him, he'd harm me. And then when he… when he heard you…" He ran a hand over his jaw. "They had guns pointing at me, Carol. I begged him not to… to listen. If I could have stopped him I would, but he's a sick man. I'm sorry. And what he heard… It made him change his plans. But we'll get him back. We will."

She had only been half-listening to his speech. Clearly he was trying to make her feel better, but rather than it fill her with confidence, she felt more drained than ever. "How?" she said quietly.

"We'll think of something," he said. "We've got the best people. Negan might have the numbers, but we've got each other. We'll think of something."

There was nothing to say. Her grandmother had often said the phrase ' _it's always darkest before the dawn.'_ But Carol thought that she had already been through the darkest point in her life. And she thought that dawn had already broken through the darkness.

Rick placed a gentle and tentative hand on her shoulder. "Let's get you home so we can work this out," he said. "The sooner we get a plan, the sooner you can start the rest of your lives together."

She nodded, all the fight gone from her, and after gathering her meagre possessions she followed him down the corridor.

She walked past the room Daryl had recuperated in, before he had moved himself in with her. Was it really less than two weeks ago that she found out from the Kingdom doctor that he hadn't followed her after all, but that he had been brought in at death's door after being shot? The news had hit her hard, especially after she had shouted at him the day before. But he had broken through her turmoil. He had made her see her worth. And she hoped that she helped him see his.

Her head swam sickeningly and she gripped onto the door frame. If she closed her eyes she could still see him huddled on that bed, the very image of despair. And she could still see the glimmer of hope in his eyes when she had spoken to him with kindness instead of anger.

"Are you ok?" Rick asked her.

How many times had Daryl asked her that exact question? And now, more than ever, she needed the comfort only his arms could bring. "No," she answered honestly.

He pulled her into an awkward hug. "We'll get him back. You have my word, Carol. After everything we've been through… the times I didn't think any of us could survive, and we did… We'll get him back."

She nodded shortly, blinking away the tears, and extricated herself from his embrace. "Let's go, then," she said tonelessly.

Rick led them outside, and they were greeted by the strangest sight Carol had ever seen. She had spoken on a couple of occasions to Ezekiel, the man who called himself king of this safe haven, and she had found him to be self-assured and eccentric. But he was clearly far more than merely just that. The larger than life man stood before them, a cape about his shoulders and a staff in his hand. Beside him, as docile as a lamb, sat a fully grown tiger which Ezekiel held by a chain around its neck. Carol had heard people talk about Ezekiel's "pet tiger" but she assumed that it was just an ordinary cat.

" _Jesus,"_ said Rick in a hushed tone, taking a few hesitant steps forward.

"My sincerest condolences for the loss of your warrior," said Ezekiel, bowing his head respectfully.

The words stung Carol's soul. "He's not lost," she said.

Ezekiel looked on her with pity in his eyes. "Of course not," he said, although his tone of voice and condescending look said that he believed otherwise. "I am sorry, then, for his temporary absence. During your stay here you proved to me that you were both strong and conscientious, rare gifts indeed in these strange times. And I pray that you will both find the strength to guide you through these trying times, in order that you may eventually find peace. And let me assure you that you will always be welcome to return here, should the opportunity arise."

"Thank you," said Rick. "For your hospitality, and for looking after my people."

"I feel quite certain that you would have done the same were the situations reversed."

Rick gave the slightest of nods, and Carol briefly wondered how much truth there was to those words. Trust was hard earned and easily lost, after all, but she kept her counsel.

"Thank you, once again."

"Your car has been readied whenever you are set to leave."

Rick held his hand towards Ezekiel and took a step forward. The tiger at his heels growled very slightly, and Rick stepped away, causing Ezekiel to roar with laughter. "Calm yourself, Shiva, my girl! Fear not, Rick. She's a kitten, really!"

Rick smiled the coldest of smiles then turned to Carol and said under his breath, "Let's get the hell out of here. Get you home."

During the drive back to Alexandria, Rick kept trying to engage her in conversation, trying to offer her some form of comfort, but she was barely listening. She stared out of the window, watching the scenery race past but not really seeing any of it. He was out there. Somewhere. Alone. Tears fell in silent torrents and she brushed them away, and rested her forehead against the cool glass of the window. A pounding headache had started behind her eyes and at her temples, and with every pulse the pain increased. She focused on it, and nurtured it. It was nothing, _nothing,_ to the pain of losing him.

The sun was hanging low in the sky when the walls of Alexandria came into view. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight as panic set in.

"Stop the car," she said quietly.

"Carol, you know I can't let you go—"

"Stop the car, please."

"If you're not there when Negan comes—"

"I know. I just need a moment."

Rick nodded, and the car rolled to a silent halt.

Alexandria had been kind to the group as a whole, but had been so damn hard on her and Daryl's relationship. They had begun to drift apart from the moment they had arrived. They both had suffered their own issues and anxieties there; Carol's growing terror at who she had become coincided with Daryl's insecurities about not being good enough. And instead of them opening up to each other, as she now realised that they should have done, she withdrew inside herself and became insular and cold, while he withdrew from the group, preferring to spend as much time as he could away from the town.

And now she was back here, knowing that he was entirely gone, and wouldn't reappear in a day or two… It was too much to cope with.

A racking sob escaped her, and Rick placed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. She understood that he was trying to offer her comfort but it was meaningless to her. She shrugged him away and quickly dried her eyes on her sleeve.

"Drive," she said.

The gates were pushed open by Father Gabriel, who welcomed them both home. But Carol had no words for him. She barely acknowledged his presence as she looked around at the houses and the people that she had resigned herself to never seeing again.

A group of those people were heading towards them, and Carol felt her stomach sink at the sight of the man in the lead. Tobin was jogging towards the car, his eyes wide with relief as he saw her.

"Thank god," he said as she stepped out of the car. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"So did I," she said in an emotionless voice, walking away from him and back towards her old home.

"Carol?" he said, his voice hopeful. "Aren't you even going to look at me?"

She turned on the spot to see him walking towards her, his arms outstretched. "Do you remember the note I wrote before I left?" she said. "Pretty sure it told you not to follow me."

His face fell, but Carol didn't care. She had far more important things to worry about. Such as abandoning the idea to never kill again, and planning exactly how and when she was going to slit Negan's throat.


	3. Chapter 3

The car jostled Daryl from side to side, so that every now and then he could feel the barrel of a gun jab him in the ribs. On leaving Kingdom he had been blindfolded with his hands tied behind him so that, in Negan's words, he " _wouldn't do anything fucking stupid."_

He had tried counting to attempt to judge how far away he was being taken, but after reaching sixty for the forty-ninth time, the car had pulled to a sudden stop. The people on either side of him got out and told him to stay put. Outside he could hear raised voices, and strained to make out what they were saying, but an unexpected gunshot silenced the voices. Moments later there was a barrage of gunfire, several bullets shattering the windows of the car. Daryl rolled off the seat and ducked down, tension filling his body as he expected a stray bullet to hit him. And then, just as suddenly as it started, it was over. He held his breath expectantly, not daring to hope that it was his captors who had lost the fight.

He had been right not to hope. The car doors opened, and he was roughly dragged outside.

"Untie him," said Negan.

Behind him someone cut at the ties binding him. "Fucking pricks," said the man. "They think they were going to get away with shit like that?"

"Gypsy bastard mother-fucks," said Negan, as the blindfold was removed.

Daryl blinked furiously against the blinding light and looked around at the scene of carnage. An old west style covered wagon was riddled with bullet holes, and the horse that had been pulling it was dead on the ground.

Surrounding the wagon, Daryl could count seven corpses. Clearly they were the carriage and horse's previous owners.

"Daryl, we run a very straight forward system. So fucking easy even a child could understand. You start at the very bottom. You do good shit for me, you earn points. You trade points in for food. More comfortable rooms to sleep in. More privacy. You do stupid fucking shit, and you lose points. Like every single one of these pricks here who managed to shoot that fucking horse." Negan turned towards his men. "Seriously, you mother fucking assholes, now we have to leave the wagon behind, because one of you dickless idiots can't fucking shoot straight." He paused and ran a hand over his face in exasperation. "Fuck's sake. All of you, search the wagon. Take what you can. Daryl, you're taking care of the bodies. Go."

The men instantly got to work, climbing all over the wagon and unloading supplies which they sorted through and began to pile into the trunks of the two cars they were travelling in. Daryl walked up to the first dead body; a man in his late twenties, his eyes still open, and his chest peppered with bullet holes. Daryl took the Bowie knife strapped to the man's side, and brought it down through his skull, then quickly dealt with the other bodies—two more men, two women, and twin boys, probably a little younger than Carl—ensuring that none of them would turn.

A quick search of the bodies yielded a further six knives and just two pistols, as well as an almost full pack of smokes, which Daryl stealthily pocketed.

He looked down at the two guns he had found and contemplated his next move, but he dismissed the thought before it had fully formed. Two tiny pistols against a Magnum and four M16 assault rifles? There was no point even considering trying to fight them.

A sharp whistling caught his attention, and he looked up to see Negan standing on the roof of one of the cars signaling his men. "Hurry it up, ladies. Anything useful, get it in the trunks so we can get the fuck out of here."

Daryl unbuckled the sheath for the Bowie knife from the first corpse and strapped it round his own waist, then dumped the remaining weapons in the trunk of the front car.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" said Negan, pointing at knife strapped to Daryl's side.

"I aint got no other weapon," said Daryl. "If we meet walkers…"

"If we meet any biting fucks, we'll protect you, like the pansy-ass pussy you are. You don't get to carry a weapon without my explicit permission until you've got enough points. And right now, you're at a big fat fucking zero. Now, give me back my fucking knife, or I'm going to be forced to take it back."

He fought back the rebuttal that he wanted to give, swallowed his pride and dropped the knife in the back of the trunk. As soon as the trunk was closed one of the men spun him around and started bind his hands again.

"You don't gotta do this," said Daryl, as the blindfold was raised to him once again. "I aint gonna cause no trouble."

"You don't have any fucking need to know where we are. Not yet anyway," said Negan.

His eyes were covered and he was shoved back into the back seat of the car, and once again the convoy began to move. This time, Daryl counted thirty four minutes before the cars came to a halt, and the blindfold was pulled from him once again.

"Welcome to your new home, Daryl," smirked Negan. "Welcome to Sanctuary. Isn't it a fucking palace?"

An enormous building, several storeys tall raised up in front of them, a grey, monolithic tombstone. Barbed wire topped the huge fences. Most disturbingly of all, chained periodically all about, there must have been at least a hundred walkers surrounding the fences. The place was a fortress.

Negan sounded the car horn, and the walkers immediately became agitated, all of them reaching desperately towards the source of the noise. Something pulled on the chains of several of the walkers forcing them to stumble backwards, clearing a path to a gate that opened and allowed them to pass safely through.

In the yard between the fences and the enormous building, Daryl spotted at least twenty men patrolling, all armed with rifles or snipers.

They got out of the cars, dragging Daryl to his feet, and untied his hands, then marched him through a metal door in the side of the enormous building.

It opened out into a huge, single room. About fifty people were inside; men, women, and children, all stood in a kind of production line, sorting through bundles of clothes, old and defunct electronics, food, medicine, weapons… They looked up when Negan entered and immediately stopped their work, turning towards him and bowing their heads in a gesture of respect, before returning to their work.

"This is where you start," said Negan. "I'd show you around the rest of our little operation, but there's no fucking point. You're on zero right now, so this is all you need to see. This is where you live. This is where you work. This is where you eat. This is where you sleep. Outside is where you shit. You earn points, you'll be able to move up a floor. You'll get more space. More food. A proper fucking toilet."

Daryl looked around at the faces of the people sorting through supplies. Every single one of them looked broken. They were at the bottom of the scrap heap with no way out and they knew it. Daryl recognised that look immediately. After all, it was exactly where he had been in society before the world had ended. Typical to be back at the bottom once again…

A man nervously approached Negan and said something under his breath. Negan's face darkened significantly. "Mother fuck," he said. "Mother _fuck!"_

Everyone in the vicinity took several steps back, giving Negan a wide birth. "You've got both those fuckers locked up?" he said.

The nervous man nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. We'll deal with Richard first, so prepare the iron. Once he's done, get Marc down here, and bring me Lucille. We're having a fucking execution."

There was a nervous tension amongst the group as an old furnace in the corner of the factory floor was stoked up, and a man was dragged into the centre of the room. Panic and fear was etched onto every single one of his features as he was forced onto his knees and held in place. Moments later a young woman wearing nothing but her underwear was pushed forward as well. Tears fell from her eyes, and she was begging and pleading with her captors.

Daryl didn't think it was possible for his hatred of Negan to increase, but the sight of the young woman made his blood boil. He turned his eyes away from the young woman's humiliation and clenched his hands into tight fists, his nails digging into the palms of his hands, focusing the anger into the pain he was able to cause himself.

Meanwhile Negan stood on a table in the centre of the room. "I keep you safe here," he proclaimed. "I provide for you. Every tiny fucking ray of hope you have, is all thanks to me. All I ask in return is your unwavering fucking loyalty." He jumped down off the table and stood before the young man and the young woman. "I gave you a choice, Emma. You marry me, you live a life of ease and luxury, and all I ask for is your fucking loyalty. You chose this. Richard, you've taken something that belongs to me. You have committed an act of pure fucking shame. And so, now, you get to wear that shame for the rest of your fucking life."

Someone handed Negan a thick, padded leather glove which he pulled onto his hand with a great deal of ceremony. The man on his knees began to struggle and plead, as Negan reached into the furnace and pulled out an old Victorian iron. "Rules are what keep us fucking civilised!" he shouted, then he pressed the iron to the side of the man's face.

The young man howled with pain, and a sickening smell of burnt meat permeated the air, then as Negan pulled the iron away, the man's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell to the floor in a cold slump. The young woman started to cry harder than ever.

"It is an honor, the greatest fucking honor, to be one of my wives. And you came to me voluntarily, don't forget that. Someone take her the fuck back upstairs. And bring me that fucking piece of shit Marc, and my precious girl. It's time to fuck him up."

Daryl stared at the man passed out on the floor who had been all but forgotten. The bloody, raw imprint of the burning hot iron was fresh on his face. Strands of flesh had stuck to the iron as it was pulled away, and these hung down in tendrils over his eyes, his mouth, his jawline.

The very first time he had encountered Dwight, he had been fresh-faced, but at their most recent encounter, he too was sporting a disfiguring burn. Had his woman offered herself up to Negan? Sold her own body to him for a life of relative ease? Was that what they had been running away from?

And was this what Negan had offered to Carol back at Kingdom? Daryl's fists closed tighter, so tight that he felt he would soon draw blood.

Another man was brought into the centre of the room. He had already been beaten pretty badly; his left eye was swollen shut, and blood was pouring from his nose. He stared ahead, unseeing, as if he had somehow already accepted the fate that was about to befall him.

One of Negan's men stepped forward and handed the leader a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. At the sight of it, Daryl felt bile rise in his stomach. He had no wish to witness this vile spectacle, and took half a step back, trying to hide amongst the crowd.

Negan, however, had other plans. "Where's my newest little bitch?" he called out, and Daryl took another step backwards. "Come on, Daryl, come out, come out wherever the fuck you are."

Someone grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and pushed him forward. Daryl looked back to see one of the men who had escorted him from Kingdom. He shrugged the man away, and once again his eyes were drawn to the weapon in Negan's hands. Every time he blinked he could see Glenn lying dead on the ground.

"I'll remind you one more fucking time. Rules keep us civilized," said Negan, addressing Daryl directly. "One of my rules is, if I give you an order, you follow it. So, time for you to step up and prove to me you can follow my orders unquestioningly. You better not fucking let me down."

Negan held up the baseball bat, causing Daryl to flinch. "You remember Lucille, right?" he said. "Here. Take her. Feel how damn fucking beautiful she is. I swear, if she had a pussy, that'd be the tightest, hottest, wettest damn pussy you'd ever seen."

Negan held the bat out towards him, and Daryl took it with the greatest of reluctance, causing Negan to grin widely.

"Good boy," he said. "And so to business. You follow orders. You don't break the rules. This cocksucking-shit-eating-mother-fucker broke one of my rules. He needs to be punished. Daryl, you know what Lucille's best at. Help her out. End this sorry sack of shit's life."

Daryl looked down at the man kneeling before him. He was slowly beginning to tremble as the reality of his fate befell him. "What'd he do?"

"He broke one of my rules," replied Negan. "And I'm giving you a direct fucking order to end him. So end him."

"That other guy broke one of your rules too, though, huh? What's the difference? What'd he do?"

Negan stepped forward menacingly. "He broke one of my rules," he repeated. "Now, stop fucking around. Lucille is smashing someone's brains in today. I'm giving you a choice whose. Either this mother fucker here by your hands, or your woman by mine. Hurry the fuck up and decide."

What choice did he have? His hands were shaking as he raised the bat and swallowed the heavy lump in his throat, but he reminded himself who he was doing this for as he drew it back and took a powerful swing towards the man's head. A cheer went up from the crowd as it struck him across the face, tearing into his flesh. Chunks of gore clung to the barbed wire, as the man fell backwards, stupefied but still alive. Hating himself with every fiber of his being, Daryl raised the bat high above his head and brought it down hard against the top of the man's skull. His legs twitched once, twice, three times, and then stilled.

Immediately he dropped the bat to the ground and doubled up, emptying the meagre contents of his stomach to the floor. He had seen and done some fucked up shit over the past couple of years, but that had to have come out near the top.

Negan was immediately more concerned for the welfare of his precious baseball bat than anything, and looked ready to kill again until he had come to the conclusion that it was unharmed. Once satisfied, he stormed over to Daryl, and cracked him with a backhand across his face.

"Don't ever treat her like that again. She's a lady. Show her some fucking respect. And don't you fucking dare ever— _ever_ —question my orders again."

In a daze, Daryl spat the blood from his newly split lip to the floor and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "What did he do?" he asked one last time. He wasn't sure any answer could satisfy him, but he _had_ to know.

"He was caught in the act of raping someone," replied Negan, and Daryl did not detect a word of a lie. "If there is one thing I tolerate even fucking less than people cheating with my women, or killing my men without my permission, it's sexual violence. We're better than that. We're not fucking animals. Right," he said loudly, clapping his hands together. "If anyone needs me, I'm going to be balls deep in one of my wives. So you better not fucking need me. " Before he left, he looked down at the vomit and blood by their feet with utter disdain. "Clean your fucking mess up."

Someone handed him a rag, and Daryl looked up to see the scarred face of the man who had shot him, who had landed him in this hell. He had thought that seeing Dwight would trigger a violent reaction in him, but seeing what had just happened, and knowing that they had tried to escape this life of servitude... he just felt pity. His woman was being held to ransom to keep Dwight under control, just as much as Carol was. They were as trapped as each other.

"He'll mean the body too," said Dwight. "If you're quick enough you can toss it over the fences, let the biters finish it off."

Dwight looked away as if almost embarrassed and then disappeared amongst the crowd. Everyone else seemed to have returned to work, completely ignoring the dead body in their midst.

After quickly mopping up the blood and vomit, Daryl looked down at the body of the man he had killed. He shuddered as he checked the dreadful injury that he had caused, making sure the man's brain was sufficiently damaged that he wouldn't turn. He then picked the body up and threw it over his shoulder, wincing at the pain the added weight caused his healing bullet wound. No one so much as looked at him as he made his way back outdoors.

Outside the factory walls was a different matter. As soon as he stepped outside carrying the body, several guns were pointed at him. "The fuck do you think you're going?" one of them men demanded.

"I got orders to deal with this," Daryl replied.

Very slowly, all but one of the guns was lowered. "How long's he been dead?" asked the man.

"Few minutes."

Keeping his gun raised, the man walked over to Daryl and examined the dead body. "Lucille?" he asked, to which Daryl nodded silently, fighting against the dry heave that threatened to overcome him. "He's cooling down rapidly out here. Doubt the biters are going to want much to do with him. You'll have to walk the gauntlet to get him outside the gates. Try running and you know what happens."

He signaled to the other men, who immediately ran to the fences and pulled on several heavy chains, then pulled the gates open.

"You want me to walk him out there?"

"That's right."

"Then what?"

"I don't give a shit, so long as you don't try to run."

Daryl adjusted the body slung over his shoulder and walked towards the open gates. The snapping jaws and constant groans of the walkers were so much louder out here, and it wasn't lost on Daryl that all someone had to do was let go of the chains holding them back and it was all over for him. Dead hands clawed the air towards him, missing him by inches on either side. One misstep could spell disaster as well.

He kept facing straight ahead and walked steadily through until he was finally clear of the wall of walkers and then looked around at his surroundings. From the position of the sun in the sky, he could tell that the factory building was south facing, with woods surrounding the eastern and south-eastern side. And overgrown and pot-holed road led away to the south, which he assumed was the road he came in on, and a ransacked town was just visible on the horizon.

"Dump the body and get back here!" shouted a voice.

Not wanting to press his luck too much, Daryl did precisely as he was told. Somehow, without the body over his shoulder, he felt even more exposed to the walkers as he passed back through them. He had never been less able to defend himself, not since he'd been a kid, and he kept his eyes firmly ahead of him, not daring to look at the walkers lest he managed to provoke them to push forward and break free of their chains.

"Get back inside, and back to work," snapped one of the men as soon as Daryl was back inside the gates. They were immediately pushed closed, and the chains holding the walkers in position were released. With half a glance back over his shoulder towards the freedom of outside, Daryl made his way inside his current prison.

The people working hard to sort out the stolen belongings seemed to be winding down. Miniscule plates of food were being passed around and the people bent double over them, wolfing it down hungrily.

Eventually a plate was passed to him; his evening meal consisted of a couple of spoonfuls of beans, two small potatoes and a tiny piece of over-cooked grey meat that was more fat than anything else. His stomach growled in protest at such a tiny offering, especially after having been emptied earlier in the day, but he ate every last greasy morsel, licking the plate clean when he was done.

There were far too many people present for him to feel at ease, and so he found a little alcove in the corner of the room, and sat down in it, watching the sorry group. Friends and lovers began pairing off, not giving a shit about the lack of privacy as they sought out any semblance of comfort from each other that they could.

A young woman, at least half his age sidled up in front of him. "You're new," she said, crouching down before him.

He nodded shortly.

"You look like you know how to take of yourself," she added.

"I guess so."

She reached up and pushed the strap of her vest top away from her shoulder. "You take care of me too, and I'll give you a little sugar."

He stared at her in disbelief, then dropped his gaze to the floor. "Get the hell outta here."

She barely even looked annoyed before she moved on and tried her luck with someone else. Was this what these people had been reduced to? Offering themselves up to each other for a few minutes of a physical connection, just to feel safe?

He had to get out, and get back to his own life. This sorry excuse for an existence couldn't be all that was left for him… But how?

On his journey here he had entertained thoughts of how he could possibly escape. He'd counted the minutes, so knew he was approximately an hour and half from Kingdom by car, but he had no idea in what direction. And that was if he even managed to get out of the gates, past the armed guards and hundreds of walkers…

No. Escape seemed impossible, for now at least.

"Lights out in one minute!" shouted a voice.

Friends began huddling together in small groups, settling down for the night, but he had no wish to be so close to strangers. He kept to himself in his corner alcove, as far away from the others as possible. Moments later the entire floor was plunged into darkness.

The moment the lights had gone out, the room fell into near silence. Clearly talking to each other was not permitted after dark. After a few seconds, he could hear the sounds of someone's ragged breathing, coupled with the gentle sob of a woman's voice. It immediately became muffled, as if someone nearby was trying to hush her cries.

He leant his back up against the wall, surrounded by darkness, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the strangers around him breathing, snoring, and crying to themselves as quietly as possible, and he thought about the home he had left behind in Alexandria. When he had first arrived he had never felt so out of place, so uncomfortable. Before the world changed, he'd always avoided people from those kind of neighborhoods. He'd always hated the look they'd have on their faces when they looked on him. Disgust, mixed with fear, mixed with pity. It used to fill him with so much anger, which Merle encouraged. After all, when you hated someone, it was easier to steal from them and get away with it. Anger kept the guilt away, and guilt got you caught.

Then the turn came, and after he lost Merle's influence, much of his anger ebbed away. And lodged deep down in amongst the survival instincts and constant low-level fear, a part of him was grateful that he'd never have to see that look of mingled disgust, pity, and mistrust on some rich asshole's face ever again.

Until they arrived at Alexandria. And it was suddenly on the face of almost every single inhabitant. He was back to being the unwanted outsider, an unnecessary addition that had no real place for some redneck lowlife. When Rick had said that he didn't want Daryl or Aaron to go out recruiting anymore, Daryl had felt suffocated, condemned to a life of being a freakish side-show; something to be gawked at and pitied.

Eventually the looks stopped as he re-earned his place again and again and again. But he'd go through it all again in a heartbeat to be back there now. To have Carol by his side.

Tiny needles pricked at the backs of his eyes at the thought of everything he had lost, and how much he had taken for granted that it would always be there. He rested his forehead on his knees and let the tears fall, praying to a deity he had never believed in to keep them both safe.

* * *

 **A/N-** Thanks for reading everyone. And again, I'm sorry for putting our babies through this. It'll be worth it in the end ;)


	4. Chapter 4

It had been almost three weeks since Daryl had been taken from her. And during those three weeks, the inhabitants of Alexandria had been working hard to ensure that their first offering to Negan was satisfactory. Unbeknownst to the majority of the town, Carol, Rick, and Michonne had been working twice as hard to ensure that despite what Negan thought, he would not be taking half of their supplies. Rick had relieved Olivia of her inventory duties, and had placed Michonne in charge of the medical supplies, Carol in charge of the food, and himself in charge of the weapons.

Over the past three weeks, the three of them had been altering the records and hiding some of the supplies away. It was a very delicate balance; hiding enough to ensure they didn't starve, or wouldn't be left without medicine or weapons if they needed them, but ensuring that they left enough behind so that when Negan took half he would be satisfied.

The problem remained of where to hide the extra supplies. And it was a terrible conclusion that they came to; the safest place would be to bury them in the graveyard underneath the bodies of those already buried there. They didn't want to risk hiding anything outside the walls just in case Negan had anyone watching them, and if he saw the turned earth of the graves and demanded that it be exhumed, he'd find the bodies of their friends to confirm their stories.

Rick had taken the task of unearthing Denise's grave upon himself. Maggie had gone to Hillside and decided to remain there, and she had insisted that Glenn's body be taken there as well to be buried. As such, Denise's grave was the most recent and so the least likely to cause suspicion if Negan did decide to check who was buried there. Michonne and Carol kept watch as Rick worked at night, making sure none of the other residents of Alexandria knew what they were doing. The fewer people who knew about the deception, the safer everyone would be.

The morning that Negan was scheduled to arrive rolled around, and there was a definite nervous tension in the air. Negan's previous visit had been cut short by his fury at the residents' belief that they would be getting Daryl back, and so he had not had a proper opportunity to look around. Today, they knew, would be different, and everything they had would be open to him.

Carol was perched on her doorstep, lost in thought. She wondered if Daryl would be amongst the people coming to Alexandria. And if he was, would he be under orders to ignore her? She wasn't sure which would hurt more; seeing him but him being out of reach, or him not being there at all.

Immediately on her return to Alexandria, she had gone to his room and found a few changes of clothes stuffed away in a drawer. She took one of his shirts, one that she had personally repaired and mended several times over. His scent still clung to it; and whenever she felt overwhelmed by sadness or grief she held it close to her, breathing him in, reminding herself that one day they would be reunited. She just wished there was something of hers that she could get to him, some token or talisman that he could keep with him.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Michonne sat beside her on the porch. "Do you think this will work?" Michonne asked after a moment's silence.

"It has to," Carol replied.

They heard the sound of a car horn, and Carol felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. This was it. If Negan suspected he'd been cheated at all, she would never see Daryl again. Michonne placed a hand on Carol's shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "You ready?"

Carol nodded, and together the two women walked to the front gate. Each step felt like a thousand more as the front gates came into view. Someone pushed them open and three trucks pulled into Alexandria. Around fifteen men in total climbed down out of the trucks. Negan first, holding a vicious looking baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. And then she spotted him amongst the other men.

Tears immediately pricked at her eyes. He had clearly lost weight; his clothes hung off his frame, and his cheeks and eyes appeared somewhat hollowed. She wanted to run to him, but Michonne held her back. "No," she said urgently. "You'll just get him hurt."

"Well, fuck me," said Negan at the top of his voice. "I wanted to have a proper good look around last time, and if you dumbass fucks hadn't interrupted me, I'd have probably moved straight in. What is this fucking place? Stepford?"

He laughed at his own joke as his men started to spread out. Carol noticed that Daryl stayed close to the trucks, his eyes downcast.

"Ok, y'all are going to be nice and patient while my boys search everywhere. Nobody fucking interrupt them, or there will be hell to pay." He turned around, and without warning viciously punched Daryl in the stomach. Tears formed in Carol's eyes as she watched her love double over and drop to his knees. "You see? And that was entirely un-fucking-provoked. Piss me off, and it'll be way fucking worse than that. No one talks to him without my permission."

Daryl looked up and caught her eye for the briefest of seconds, before he looked away. It was entirely clear that he had been brought along solely as an example, to force those at Alexandria who hadn't witnessed Glenn's terrible execution to take Negan's threats seriously. Carol's breath hitched in her throat at the sight of him so broken.

Meanwhile Negan had wandered over the porch of one of the houses, and sat down on the swing chair. "You got beers here, Stepford?" he called out. "Who's in charge of the food around here?"

Carol tore her gaze from away from Daryl and stepped forward. "I am," she said.

"Well, if it isn't little Carol," he grinned, looking her up down wolfishly. "I gotta say, you look way fucking better without your clothes on."

Her anger spiked through her like a physical pain, but she fought it down into the pit of her stomach and said nothing.

"Good girl," said Negan. "You're a fast learner. Or maybe you just like being controlled by a strong man?"

"You wanted a beer, right?" she said through gritted teeth. "I'll get it."

Negan signaled to one of his men and called him over. "Trev, this is Carol. She's a really fucking good friend of mine, so you be nice to her, ok? She's going to show you where all the food supplies are kept, and she's going to fetch me a beer, like a fucking good little girl. Aren't you, sweetheart?"

She glared at Negan for a moment, but backed down just as quickly. "This way," she said to her armed escort.

As soon as she took him inside the storage unit, the man, Trev, immediately began packing the supplies. Carol grabbed a couple of bottles of beer from the shelf. "I'm taking these to your boss, ok?" she said.

"Sure thing, lady."

On her way back to Negan, she glanced back towards Daryl. He hadn't moved from his spot on the ground, a shell of his former self.

"I've got your beers," she said. "They're not cold, though."

"Fuck it. You win some, you lose some. Give them here, sweetheart."

"I want to talk to him," she said.

Negan leaned forward in the swing chair. "Are you trying to fucking negotiate with me?" he said.

"I'm not negotiating," she said. "How can I, when I have nothing to negotiate with? I'm asking. I just want to talk to him."

"Give me my fucking drink."

Carol handed him the two bottles which he snatched away from her. He opened the first one with his teeth, and spat the metal lid to the ground. Without taking his eyes off of her, he knocked back half of the bottle in a single gulp. "You have until I've finished these. And I should warn you, I'm really fucking thirsty. So if you want any meaningful conversation, you'd better hurry the fuck up."

She didn't need telling twice, and ran to where he was still kneeling on the ground.

"It's ok," she said, cradling his head in her hands. "I'm here. It's ok."

"You gotta get away," he said urgently, nervously glancing around. "You shouldn't be talkin' to me."

"I have to," she answered. "I'm not going to ask if you're ok, because…" she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The unasked question and its implications hung in the air between them. "But I have to talk to you."

"It aint worth it. It aint worth what he might do."

"Don't worry. I've okayed it with him." She reached out to run her hand down the side of his cheek, and he flinched very slightly at her touch. "What has he done to you?" she said quietly.

"Mm ok," he mumbled, his eyes falling closed.

"Has he hurt you?"

"It don't matter," he said.

"It _does_. It does matter. You matter. So much." She wound her hand around the back of his neck, her fingers entwining in his hair, and pulled him close, pressing her lips against his. She could feel him tremble beneath her touch and he barely responded to the kiss. "We'll get you out of this," she whispered to him. "Just hold on."

"You aint attackin' them," he said urgently. "They got the place locked down tight. You attack, and you're gonna get youselves killed."

"Where are you?"

"I dunno. Some giant factory. I can't tell ya where, or how far away. They knocked me out, 'fore they put me in the truck. "

"Just hold on," she repeated, and she brought her lips to his forehead as he wound his fingers into her hair.

"I miss ya," he said quietly. "I miss ya so damn much."

She pulled away from him briefly. His face was a mask of sorrow; his shining eyes seemed either unable or unwilling to focus on her, and once again Carol wished there was something she could give him to hold on to, to bring him a little peace and hope in his darkest moments. In a flash of inspiration, she pulled her knife out and quickly cut one of her silver curls from her head, and took a tissue from her pocket, wrapping it inside.

"Here," she said, pressing the tiny package into his hand. "So you know I'm always with you."

He quickly pocketed the tissue, and pressed his lips to hers. "Thank you," he whispered into her, before he gently ran his tongue along the seam of her lips. She opened her mouth to him, deepening their kiss, their tongues moving together in a desperate concord, when he was pulled violently away from her.

"Alright kiddos, that's your lot," said Negan. "Daryl, make yourself fucking useful and start loading the trucks."

His men had started returning with boxes loaded with supplies and as instructed, Daryl began to pile these into the back of the trucks. He glanced vaguely in Carol's direction, and she could tell that he knew immediately that what they were taking wasn't anywhere near half of everything. Her heart pounded in her throat as she prayed that Negan did not suspect.

Raised voices caught everyone's attention, and Carol could see Michonne walking towards them, following one of Negan's men, Rick in tow behind her.

"You said half!" she was saying. "This isn't right!"

"Is there a fucking problem?" shouted Negan.

"Yeah, there's a problem," said Rick. "You said you were taking half. Your man here has taken all the antibiotics, all the strong pain killers, and he's left us with nothing but aspirin and paracetamol."

The man carrying the box of meds shrugged. "It was roughly half and half."

"Well then, there is no fucking problem, is there?" said Negan in a dangerous voice.

"What if someone gets sick?" said Michonne. "We need that."

"Then you better find some more, and hope no one gets fucking sick until you do."

"You said half. This isn't fair."

Negan took a step towards her. "Are you actually questioning me? Seriously, are you fucking _genuinely_ questioning me? Because I'm more than fucking happy to give you a reminder of what happens when you start pissing me the fuck off." He whistled sharply, and two men dragged Daryl forward. They pushed him to his knees and held him in place, despite his futile efforts to struggle from their grip.

"No!" cried Carol, and she rushed forward, stopping in her tracks as one of the thugs raised his knife, the sharp blade pressed flush against Daryl's throat.

"So, I'm going to ask again," said Negan, stepping dangerously close to Michonne. "Are you fucking questioning me, and do you need a fucking reminder?"

"No," she said quietly.

"Rick? Are you going to fuck me about?"

"No."

"Then we're all sweet as a fucking peach here," he said, and he nodded to his men to release Daryl. Carol's heart shattered at the sight of him; he stared straight ahead, breathless and broken, before he was pulled to his feet and ordered to continue loading.  
But they weren't out of the woods yet. Negan moved to the back of the trucks to inspect their stolen supplies. Carol held her breath and swallowed the painful lump in her throat. They were about to find out if Negan was going to fall for their ruse…

"You boys check all the houses too?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"You check every last fucking hidey hole?"

"Yes, sir."

In a sudden flurry of movement, Negan rushed forward and grabbed Rick by his throat, forcing a revolver to his temple. The world slowed to a terrifying halt. Carol was vaguely aware of shouts and screams all around them, and she quickly grabbed hold of Carl, who was racing past her to be by his father's side. "Not yet," she whispered to the struggling boy.

"Are you trying to fuck me, Rick?"

"No," choked Rick. "That's…everything…"

"You're fucking sure? Because you know what happens to people who fuck me, right?"

"I…know…"

Just as suddenly as he had attacked, Negan released Rick, and Carol felt it safe to let go of Carl. The boy ran to his father's side, and helped him up, glaring all the while at Negan.

"I just had to check," grinned Negan. "Thank you all for your fucking tremendous co-operation. We'll send a message with the date of our next collection soon."

He nodded to his men, who all began piling onto the trucks. For just a moment, Carol held Daryl's gaze before a bag was pulled down over his head and he was bundled into the back of one of the trucks.

She watched them speed away, furiously blinking away the tears, with no idea when or even if she would next see him. She could still feel his lips against hers. She could still taste his kisses. Worst of all she could still hear the hopelessness in his voice.

She started very slightly when she felt a hand alight on her shoulder. Rick was by her side. "How are you doing?" he asked her, his voice hoarse from Negan's rough treatment of him.

She stayed silent a moment, and Rick nodded in understanding. "Yeah. Me too."

"How do we get him back?" she asked. "How do we put a stop to this?"

"We'll find a way, Carol. We outsmarted Negan today. He's not infallible. He acts like he is, and that's how he gets his power. But we proved him wrong. He's already made one mistake. And people like that… soon he'll make another, and another. And one of his mistakes will prove fatal. We'll find a way."

"I hope you're right," she said quietly.

"I know I am."

Rick spoke with such conviction that for a moment she could almost believe him. Tyrants couldn't last forever, not without people rising against them, after all. And surely, after the hell they had been through, they were due a turn in their favor. Rick offered her a half-smile and squeezed her shoulder one more time.

"I believe you," she said at last.


	5. Chapter 5

Days dragged out into weeks, until Daryl started to lose all track of time. The points system Negan operated did nothing to help his situation; when all he was allowed to do was sort out the shit that came into Sanctuary, there was no hope of him earning anything, and so he was still forced to live, eat, and sleep on the factory floor with the fifty other hopeless cases.

The only times that he was allowed outside of the Sanctuary walls were to be paraded in front of the Alexandria residents to keep them in line. This in itself tore him in half; the pain of seeing his family subjugated and exhausted shattered his heart into pieces, and the fact that he was not allowed to reach out to them, to be near them, to even _talk_ to them unless given permission broke him even further. But at the same time, he would see them, and they were _alive._ They were still going. They were still fighting. And Carol… for now she was safe, and that was all that mattered.

Every night before he slept, he pulled the tissue containing the lock of Carol's hair from his pocket, and he held it to his lips, carefully rewrapping and pocketing it before he could lose so much as a single strand. It became something of a talisman for him; as long as the lock of hair was protected, Carol would remain shielded from all harm.

Winter was very much on its way. Over the past few weeks Daryl had noticed a definite drop in the temperature. The breath of the workers hung in the air around them; a melancholic fog that served as a constant reminder that worse was to come. Fights became regular occurrences; when Negan announced that he was oh-so-graciously allowing each of the workers an extra piece of clothing during the winter months, a stampede broke out to race for the warmest items. Friendships were broken and allies lost as it became the very picture of survival of the fittest.

Daryl had managed to scavenge a hooded sweater that was far too big for his frame, and he pulled the hood over his head as he took himself off to his usual corner alcove to eat his evening meal. The soggy vegetable stew was overcooked and pretty tasteless, but at least it was hot, and he barely even looked up as a group of people began arguing over the size of their portions.

However, another set of raised voices nearby did catch his attention. Negan was talking to one of his men, and there was a dangerously cold edge cutting through the usual arrogance.

"What the fuck do you mean, that she's gone? Gone where?" he said.

"We don't know, sir."

"And Dwight?"

There was a long pause. "Also gone."

There was a roar, followed almost immediately by a sickening sound of crunching bones. Daryl paused in eating his meal to watch cautiously, and even the fighting workers immediately stopped, their conflict forgotten in the face of a much more pressing danger.

Blood ran from the broken nose of the man unfortunate enough to have delivered the news, and it mingled with the blood from Negan's split knuckles. He repeatedly slammed the man's head to the ground, shouting a demand between each violent action.

"WHO —" c _runch_ "THE—" _crunch_ "FUCK—" _crunch_ "WAS—" _crunch_ "ON—" _crunch_ "WATCH?"

But the unlucky soul who had delivered the bad news was entirely still. A dark red stain spread out from the back of his head, coating the floor in a scarlet shimmer. In his frustration, Negan stood and kicked the corpse several times in the stomach. He paced back and forth, taking a swing at anyone who tried to speak to him, until a tell-tale moan came from the man on the floor. Killing his henchman for delivering bad news hadn't been enough for Negan. He had waited for the man to turn, so that he could end him all over again.

"I WANT HIM FOUND!" shouted Negan. "I WANT HIM FOUND, AND I WANT THE COCKSUCKERS WHO LET HIM ESCAPE DEAD!"

While he had cautiously watched Negan's violent display, and had been grateful to be entirely uninvolved, this was now an opportunity to get out of Sanctuary that wasn't going to come around again.

"You lookin' for Dwight? I can find him," said Daryl, taking half a step forward.

"Sit the fuck back down," warned Negan.

"I'm a tracker. I can find him."

Negan stared at him, and then with the suddenness and ferocity of a striking cobra, grabbed him around the throat and pinned him to a wall. He raised a knife high, and for a split second Daryl thought that this was it, this was where and how his life was to be ended. He thought of Carol back in Alexandria and Negan's promise to end her life if he stepped out of line, and prayed that he wouldn't keep to his word.

But the blow never came. "Are you trying to fuck me, Daryl? Because I think I've been pretty clear right from the fucking start what happens to people who fuck me."

"I swear, I can find him!"

"And why would you want to do that?" he said, tightening his grasp around Daryl's throat very slightly.

"Son of a bitch owes me," choked Daryl. "He screwed me over, stole my shit, killed my friend, and the son of a bitch shot me. My friends are dead, and I'm here because of him."

"Fuck me. So now you're after a little revenge, is that right?"

"He owes me," repeated Daryl.

Negan contemplated Daryl's proposal, and then very slowly released his grip. "You'll be going out with a group, and if you try anything at all, they'll put a bullet between your fucking eyes. Bring my wife back unharmed, or _I'll_ put a bullet between your eyes. Dwight? You'll get a lot more points if he's still alive and I can finish his fucking sorry ass myself. If you have to kill him, you make sure it's fucking slow and fucking painful. Betray me, and I'll torch your town to the fucking ground."

Negan ordered a group of four of his henchmen, ones that he knew hadn't been on watch when Dwight had escaped, to accompany Daryl as he tracked Dwight and Sherry. Daryl recognised two of the men—Alex and Oscar—from the supply runs to Alexandria. The other two he had never seen before, and they were introduced as Lucas and James. Daryl acknowledged them with a brief jerk of his head. He hadn't wanted to know their names. If everything went to plan, they'd soon be dead by his hands, and that was always easier if people were nameless.

His plans were made far more difficult by the fact that he was still not allowed to carry any kind of weapon, but he was nothing if not resourceful; he'd just have to improvise when the time came.

They left immediately, walking the terrifying gauntlet through the wall of walkers until they were clear of the Sanctuary's defences, and Daryl felt as if a lead weight had lifted from his shoulders. It was the closest to freedom he had been in a long, long time, and he took a moment to breathe in the cool autumnal air.

"You sure you can track them?" asked Alex.

"I'm sure," Daryl replied. "Anyone been out here on foot today?"

"No," added James. "We've had a few patrols leave by car, but no one on foot."

"And ya sure he didn't take a car or nothin'?"

"Everything's accounted for."

Daryl looked at the surroundings. "If it was me, I'd head for the woods. Aint no cover in any other direction."

"Go ahead then," said Lucas, gesturing with his rifle. "We'll follow. Try any shit and you know what you'll get."

He looked up at the sky, and guessed it was probably around five o'clock. "We've only got an hour and half, two hours at most of daylight left."

"You'd best get moving then."

He nodded and started towards the first line of trees, keeping an eye on the ground for any signs of people passing through.

He was in luck. While it was getting colder, the ground was still soft enough for footprints to be readily made. He smiled grimly to himself. About damn time that something went his way.

"Got him," he said. "This way."

Being back outside was cathartic. He felt the suffocating imprisonment of the past couple of months begin to drain away as he moved stealthily between the trees, his armed guard crashing through the undergrowth behind him. If he was genuinely trying to catch Dwight unawares, he'd be telling each of them to be more careful, but the fact that they were announcing their presence with each and every step was an enormous help to him.

They were half an hour into the woods, and by Daryl's guess around three or four hours behind their prey, when Daryl came across something disturbing. "Hold up," he said.

"What is it?" asked Oscar.

"Walkers," he said. "A herd." He followed the progression of the numerous shuffling tracks. "Not the biggest I've seen, but enough to cause us problems if they turn back."

"How far away are they?"

"Not far. They passed this way less than an hour ago."

Alex gazed in the direction the herd was headed. "Forget it," he said. "We're not here to worry about any biters. We get Dwight and Sherry. We get home. That's it."

Daryl nodded and resumed the search for Dwight's trail. The idea of there being so many walkers nearby coupled with the fact that he still wasn't entrusted with even so much as a knife to defend himself set him very much on edge. The more distance he could put between himself and the walkers, the better, at least until he was able to arm himself with his companions' weapons.

"This way," he said, leading them further into the forest.

After an hour Daryl smiled grimly at what the tracks seemed to be telling him. They were fast catching up to their quarry, far faster than they should be. And instead of continuing further into the woods, they seemed to be doubling back. Dwight clearly knew that they were being followed. And from the look of it, they were preparing an ambush.

Daryl looked up into the sky. Heavy clouds were rolling in, and with only about half an hour of sunlight left, it would soon be far too dark to continue. His luck was holding out for once…

"There aint gonna be no moon or stars tonight," said Daryl. "Best idea is to make a camp for the night, pick up the trail again in the morning."

"They could be miles away by morning," said Lucas. "I'm not going back without them. We keep going."

"Naw, if we keep going, we're gonna wander off the trail, and we're gonna lose them. If they got any sense, they aint gonna keep walkin' through the night. If they can't see, they're gonna head straight into walkers and get themselves bit. They'll be be findin' a place to stop for the night."

"Which is why we keep going. Catch them unawares."

"If we keep goin' with no light, we're goin' to do the same. We'll lose the trail—"

"We've got torches, you stupid fucking hick."

"So they can see us comin' for a mile around? Fuck, man, and you think I'm the stupid one?"

He paid dearly for his moment of cheek. Lucas swung for him, and he quickly side-stepped to avoid the punch, but immediately his arms were pinned behind his back by one of the other men. He struggled to extricate himself, but Lucas sauntered up before him, and with a sudden ferocity head butted him hard on the bridge of his nose. Tears streamed from his eyes at the sudden and immense pain, and he felt a burning wet heat immediately begin to pour down his face. He was released and tentatively felt at his nose. It didn't seem to be broken, which was a blessing. Still hurt like a bitch though, and the pain was making him dizzy. He was vaguely aware of Alex saying, "Hate to admit it, but he's right though. We're not going to get anywhere in the dark. The rest of you, get this camp ready. I'm going to try and find us some dinner. And Lucas? We need him. He better still be in one piece when I get back."

The three remaining men grumbled their affirmation while Daryl attended to his bloody nose. He kept half an eye on them while at the same time constantly scanning the area, just in case they were already being watched.

Alex returned just after sunset. He had managed to bag a small rabbit, and he sat to one side, skinning and gutting it while James got a fire started. The glowing light in the centre of their clearing made the rest of the woods seem even darker by comparison. It was perfect. They'd set up some noise traps to alert them in case of walkers, but which Dwight and Sherry should be able to avoid, if they were careful…

The portion of cooked meat he was eventually given was tiny, but still somehow more filling than the meals he had become used to at sanctuary, and he concentrated on making sure he ate every last tiny scrap, while pointedly ignoring the inane conversation around him. They were talking about the women they'd had since the end of the world, and each "conquest" was described in more graphic detail than the last.

"Nah, man, she was on her knees, sucking like a fucking Hoover," laughed Oscar. "And the biter was getting closer and closer, but fuck, man, so I was I, you know what I mean? And my gun was on the side, so I reached for it, whispered to her to keep going, and BANG! Dropped the biter, and I've never come so hard in my life. You should try it some time."

"What about you, Daryl?" asked Alex. "You've got to have some good stories about that little pixie I've seen you cosying up to in Alexandria."

Daryl looked up briefly, then returned his gaze into the orange glare of the campfire. "Fuck you," he muttered.

"What, is she a beard or something?" laughed Oscar, and the rest of the men guffawed at his joke.

"Fuck you," he muttered once more.

"Well, that's answered that," laughed Alex, and he gnawed at the remains of a rabbit bone, chuckling to himself every now and then. Without warning, he made a sudden dreadful gurgling sound and fell forwards into the fire, an arrow protruding through his throat.

A gunshot echoed around the clearing a split second later and James cried out as the bullet pierced his stomach, falling silent as a second shattered his skull.

Daryl quickly scrabbled for cover away behind a nearby tree as Oscar and Lucas raised their guns and began firing blindly into the darkness. He had to put a stop to them soon; the noise they were making, they'd be summoning every walker around. And if any of those stray bullets hit Dwight and Sherry, this was all for nothing, and both he and everyone he cared about would soon be dead…

He took a deep breath and ran out from his cover, grabbing James' weapon from the ground, then quickly turned on Oscar and Lucas. He got the first shot off before either of them realised they had been double crossed, and Oscar fell to the floor.

Lucas' eyes flew wide at the betrayal, his lips forming the beginning of a violent curse but before he could turn his gun on Daryl, a bullet lodged between his eyes, and Daryl ducked back behind a tree for cover.

"I aint here to hurt ya, Dwight!" he called out.

Another gunshot echoed out, and Daryl was just about to protest when the reanimated walker body of Alex dropped down beside him; the shot had been to protect him, not to kill or even scare him.

"Get out of here, Daryl," shouted Dwight. "Just turn back."

"You know I aint goin' back there with nothin.'"

"Don't make me shoot you again! Just….turn back!"

Very slowly, Daryl moved out from behind his cover, his hands raised. He lowered the gun to the ground and then stood up again. "I got a better idea. Come out here and talk. It aint a good idea to keep on shoutin'."

"Try anything, Daryl, and I will shoot you!"

"Yeah, yeah. You an' everyone else."

He saw movement just beyond the edge of the light provided by the camp fire, and Dwight stepped into view pointing Daryl's own crossbow directly at him.

"You were sent out here to bring us back," said Dwight.

"Yeah, but I got a better idea."

Dwight took another step forward raising the crossbow even further, and Sherry came into view just behind him. She looked tired and terrified, but the pistol she held in her hands was perfectly steady.

"Talk," said Dwight.

"You know Negan better than me, and I can already tell he aint never gonna stop chasing ya. Am I right?"

Dwight twitched his head in the slightest of nods, but kept the crossbow steady. Son of a bitch was getting good…

"And you know I aint happy doin' his dirty work. This ends when he's dead."

"And good luck with that," called Dwight.

"You get me back to Alexandria. If you're with me, they'll listen to ya. You talk to my people. Tell them everythin' ya know about him."

"And then what?"

"Then we figure something out. Put a stop to it."

"Are you really that naïve, Daryl? After everything?"

"I just… I gotta believe that it's gonna get better."

Dwight stared at him for a long moment, and then very slowly lowered the crossbow. "You're a damned idiot, Daryl," he said. "Do you even have a plan?"

"Yeah. Find you, and take it from there," said Daryl. "We should get moving. There's a herd of walkers not far from here. All of them gunshots… they'll be on their way."

Sherry looked around at the campsite, and at the dead bodies of the men who had been chasing them. "How many?"

"I dunno. Twenty. Maybe thirty."

She nodded and took a deep breath, bracing herself for what she had to say. "We should stay. Wait for them to show up, and take them down."

Daryl's eyes fell on the bodies of the men they had killed. With a terrible, sinking feeling, he understood why she was suggesting it. "It's dangerous but it's a good plan. Covers our tracks in case Negan sends out more people." He eyed his crossbow in Dwight's hands. "You gonna give that back to me?"

"Hell no," said Dwight.

"You know I'm getting' it back one way or another, right?"

"Maybe. But not today. Perhaps when this over."

"You got an idea how we're gonna do that, then?"

"One or two, maybe. Get me to your town, first."

It was a long and nerve-wracking wait in the near dark, and the three of them spoke very little, until the heard the groaning, stumbling sounds of walkers approaching them.

"No guns, unless you got no other choice," said Daryl, and Dwight nodded in understanding.

And then they were there, their dead, grey eyes staring blankly, and their clawed, rotting, and scabbed hands blindly reaching forward in the darkness. They kept in a huddle, watching each other's backs as wave after wave of walkers came at them. Soon his hands were coated in the thick, greasy, black blood, and he was running on pure adrenaline. He imagined each walker as Negan, and despatched them quickly and ruthlessly, taking a grim satisfaction in the thought that one day soon he'd be ending the real one.

Daryl had no idea how long he had been fighting, when finally, filthy and exhausted, the woods around them fell silent. "You want to keep moving tonight?" asked Daryl as soon as the three of them had caught their breath.

Dwight nodded. "We're about an hour from the nearest road. We get out of here, find a car, and I can get you back to Alexandria from there."

"Lead the way," said Daryl.

They gathered the remaining rifles—fully loaded weapons were far too much of a precious commodity to leave behind—as well as the torches that Lucas had spoken about, and headed deeper into the trees. All three of them were on high alert, turning towards the slightest of sounds.

Eventually the trees thinned out, and they found themselves on a wide, straight road. There were a handful of cars in sight, but nothing that looked especially promising. The first—a tiny Honda—had three flats and an almost entirely decayed walker trapped inside. The second—an ancient Buick—had it's hood open, and a quick check of the engine told Daryl that it was corroded and rusted to shit.

The third, fourth, and fifth cars he checked all told similar stories, and Daryl was beginning to think that the good luck he'd been experiencing since leaving Sanctuary was all but running out. But the sixth, a Toyota Corolla, seemed in perfect working order, and after smashing a window to get inside, he was able to hotwire it in moments.

They drove through the night, Dwight directing them, and at long last, as the sun began to rise, casting a pinkish-golden glow over everything, the walls of Alexandria loomed up in front of them.

Daryl felt his heart swell in his chest. She was so damn close to him…

He slowed down, knowing that someone would be up in the guard tower, not wanting to alarm whoever was up there. Sure enough, as he approached, however was up there fired a warning shot in his direction.

Daryl leaned out the window and shouted at whoever was up there. "Hey! You wanna watch it with that thing!"

In response, he heard a voice shout, "Open the gate! It's Daryl! Open the gate!" and he glanced back up to the watch tower to see Sasha staring down at him in disbelief.

The gates were pulled open before him, and he drove past an open-mouthed and gawking Spencer, stopping the car in the main street.

It was like a surreal dream; nothing felt quite real. There was a shimmering edge to everything he saw; whether that was the sheer exhaustion he felt, or the overwhelming relief at being home, or the incredible anticipation that soon he would be able to hold Carol, or a mix of all three, he was not sure.

Sasha's excited shout had roused a few people from their homes, and people were slowly beginning to gather in the street, shock and disbelief at the sight of Daryl returned evident on all their faces. He looked desperately amongst the faces for the one he needed to see more than anyone.

And then he saw her emerge from her home. She looked at him with a strange mix of both curiosity and confusion, as if she couldn't trust the evidence of her own eyes. A strangled sob escaped her throat, and then she was running towards him, and he dropped his gun to the floor and ran to meet her with open arms.

And then he was holding her, and she was real, warm, solid, and not the dream version he had held in his mind every waking second that they had been apart. He pulled her into his tight embrace, and his breath hitched in his throat at how much he had missed this, how much he _needed_ her to be close to him always.

Her lips pressed kisses against his collarbone, his neck, his jaw, and then her lips found his, and they melded against one another. It was sweetly insistent, as if neither could believe that the other was real. Time stood still as her hands wound into his hair and held him steady. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel hers beating against him; a syncopated, rhythmic song that he could have danced to with her for the rest of his days.

She pulled away from him, her hands still cupping his face, and tears swam in her clear blue eyes. The sight caused him physical pain; he never, ever wanted to see her cry again, but couldn't stop his own tears as well.

"Is it over?" she whispered. "Is he dead?"

He shook his head, and her face fell.

"He's coming here?" she asked.

"Not yet," he replied. "We gotta get everyone together. We can take him down, I know it."

He looked up, and suddenly Rick was in front of him, and pulled him into a tight hug. "Welcome back, brother," he said. "You killed him?"

Daryl shook his head. "No, and there's gonna be a war," he said urgently. "He'll be comin' after us when he realises I'm gone, so we gotta strike him first. You gotta meet some people."

Daryl nodded at the car, and both Dwight and Sherry got out, looking apprehensively at the people surrounding them.

Dwight was instantly recognised by a couple of people, and their reaction to him was not encouraging.

"Son of a dicksucker," muttered Abraham, and he reached into his back pocket for his pistol, pointing it directly at Dwight's head, but staying calm.

Rosita, however, was not to be consoled. She rushed forward, anger blazing in her eyes.

" _Hijo de puta_ ," she spat, and raised her gun at him.

"Hold up," said Daryl, placing himself between both Rosita's and Abraham's guns and their target. "You gotta listen to what he has to say."

"Are you kidding me, Daryl? Tara?" she said, turning and looking for her friend in the crowd. "You want to know what happened to Denise? This _puto_ shot her. And if Denise was still alive, Maggie wouldn't have had to go to Hilltop for a doctor. And you—" she shoved him hard in his chest, almost knocking him off balance "—wouldn't have acted like an _idiot_ and gone after him. Glenn would still be alive. And you bring this son of a bitch here?"

Tara looked from Daryl, to Dwight, to Rosita, and back to Daryl. "Is that true? This is the guy who killed my girlfriend?"

He nodded sadly, unable to quite meet her eyes.

"Oh," she said, then walked straight up to Dwight, and caught him with a solid right hook.

"I didn't have a choice!" shouted Dwight as Tara made to swing again.

"So you took hers away?"

"Stop!" shouted Sherry, tears streaming down her face. "He was trying to save me. I'm sorry for anyone you've lost. But he did it to save my life. Haven't any of you done things you're ashamed of to save the life of someone you love?"

Beside him, Carol suddenly gripped hold of Daryl's wrist and held on tightly. "Let him be," she said, emotion cracking the edges of her voice.

"Carol," said Rick. "Didn't you hear? He's the reason we no longer have a doctor. He's the reason Maggie won't come home. He's the reason Glenn is dead."

"You forgave me," she said, and there was no way she was able to hide the sadness in her voice. "For Karen. For David. You forgave me."

She turned away from the crowd and into Daryl, and he gently wrapped his arms around her. Her breathing was irregular and shallow, as if she were trying to hide the fact that she was crying. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, and looked up at Rick.

"Look," it can't hurt none to just hear what he has to say."

"And then what, Daryl? We just forgive and forget, and we all play _Happy Families_ and move on?"

"Naw, man, I aint sayin' that he gets to stay here after this is all done. But he can help us end this, and end it for good."

A muscle clenched in Rick's jaw and he took half a step towards Dwight. "Talk," he said.

Dwight swallowed heavily but kept his ground. "You want to take him down, you need to start with his outposts. I can show you where they are. I can show you how to approach them without being spotted. Where his snipers will be hidden. Where to place your snipers to take them down safely. You take back his territory, and pick his men off one at a time. He's got a lot of people, but they won't last forever."

Rick cocked his head slightly to one side and took another step closer. "Do you know how many people I've killed?"

Dwight shook his head.

"Nor do I," said Rick. "Why am I telling you that? So you know that if I get even the slightest _suspicion_ that you're going to double cross us, I will not hesitate to end you."

"I get it."

"Ok," said Rick. "So let's just say we manage to take his outposts. Then what?"

Sherry took a step forward and spoke, her voice trembling. "I need to be back at Sanctuary for this to work. If…if I don't go back, he won't stop looking for me. He'll attack you before you're ready. But if I'm back there, I can start recruiting people to be on our side. None of his wives are loyal to him. They'd see him dead in an instant if they could." She looked utterly defeated as she addressed Daryl directly. "You'll have to take me back. We tell him that… that Dwight killed his other men, and then you were attacked by biters. It's not exactly a lie. You can tell him that you shot Dwight and left him for dead. Tell him I escaped and you had to go after me alone. That way, if he searches and comes across the camp, he'll see the dead men, he'll see the biter corpses. It'll add up. And that way… when you finally attack him at Sanctuary… we'll be ready to fight back on the inside too."

Whilst Sherry was speaking, Carol had gripped his wrist harder than ever, as if she were afraid that if she let go she would never touch him again. The same fear and anxiety filled Daryl's lungs as well, but that didn't stop Sherry's words from being entirely true. He had to take her back. And they had to leave soon, before Negan suspected anything. Very slowly, he nodded in agreement.

"You can't be serious," said Rick.

"She's right," Daryl replied. "Most people there are like slaves. They'll go against Negan if they get a chance."

"If we do this, you've got to be ready," said Dwight. "When we attack, be prepared to take him down at any opportunity. You wait until we make our move, and you take him down before he can stop you."

Daryl nodded once again, and the world felt as if it were closing in on him. To be so near to being free, only to have to turn around and walk straight back into prison… it was a suffocating realisation.

"We should leave sooner rather than later," said Sherry. "The longer we're gone, the higher the chances that he'll send someone out to look for us. We should drive back to where we found the car, and then head back on foot."

"Now?" said Carol, and there was unmistakeable panic in her voice.

"We have to," she replied.

Her mouth set in a hard line, and her jaw clenched. "Give us a few minutes," she said.

She turned to Daryl, and gently held his face in her hands. His eyes fell closed, and exhaustion threatened to take him. Nothing in the world would give him greater pleasure than to take hold of her soft, elegant hands and lead her to his bed. To curl up next to her and sleep, and to only wake up when the world was less cruel. "You listen to me," she said quietly. "You are coming back. We are going to end this, and you are coming back. Do you hear me? I'm not going to lose you."

He had missed an opportunity back at Kingdom to say something to her. Three words to show just how damn much she meant to him. Just three words… He opened his mouth, but his throat turned to sandpaper and the words stuck. He screwed his eyes tightly closed, fighting against the tears that threatened to fall. "We're good, right?" he whispered into her, hoping that she would know what he meant, and that he wanted to say more but his that his cowardice prevented him.

"We're good," she replied, and she reached behind his head and pulled him down towards her, and placed a soft, lingering kiss against his forehead. She gazed steadily into his eyes, and there was an undeniable tenderness to the clear blue of hers. Without saying a word, he knew what she meant, and knew that she had understood his words too.

"I'll see ya real soon," he said, as his lips found hers, capturing them in one final, gentle kiss.

It was a heart-breaking wrench to tear himself away from her, but he had no other choice.

"Good luck," said Rick, as Daryl climbed into the driver's seat of the Corolla.

"You too, man," he replied.

"And don't do anything until we attack at Sanctuary. You understand?" added Dwight.

"Got it," said Daryl, as he began to pull away. In the rear-view mirror he could see Carol watching him, and he kept his eyes until the last possible second. He was returning to Hell. But not without hope.

* * *

 **A/N -** Thanks for reading, now hit that review button!


	6. Chapter 6

Carol gnawed at the quick of her thumbnail—a bad habit she had picked up from Daryl—and watched the countryside speed past in a never-ending green, grey, and brown blur. She had thought that nothing could top the constant anxiety she had experienced over the past few months, but since watching Daryl drive away, every day had felt like drowning. Every passing minute brought them closer to their final showdown with Negan, and each time she exhaled, iron bars pressed down on her chest, making it even harder to breathe in once again.

Dwight had refused to tell them the exact position of Sanctuary. This, he said, was his insurance policy. But he had marked out on a map the location of each of Negan's outposts, and everyone had looked at the sprawl of territory with a sinking feeling. There were eight in total; too many to deal with alone. However, Negan was still unaware of their hidden stockpile of weapons. And if they could persuade Kingdom and Hilltop to fight alongside them in a co-ordinated attack, and arm them with their cached weapons, they just might have a chance.

Tara and Abraham had driven to Hilltop to persuade them. From what she had heard of the man in charge—Gregory—he would make every excuse under the sun to stay out of it. But Maggie was also at Hilltop. And no doubt she would want to see Negan's reign ended. She would be the key to getting Hilltop to fight.

Rick had wanted to send Carol and Morgan to Kingdom to speak with Ezekiel, as they were the two people who had spent the most time at Kingdom. However, Morgan had been very clear on his position. While he was willing to fight if necessary, he point blank refused to persuade men to go out and murder. Ezekiel seemed like the type of man who would only be willing to listen to people he had already met, and so Rick, much to his own chagrin, was forced to abandon the town and travel to Kingdom alongside Carol.

Ezekiel had taken very little persuasion. His only stipulations were that his men got to keep any weapons provided by Alexandria, and that once the battles were won, Rick understood that his people could not simply come and go to the Kingdom as they pleased; they were still very much their own places, and that while trades could be negotiated, Ezekiel was not willing to allow free movement.

This suited Rick absolutely down to the ground, and the two men shook hands on the alliance. Two men from Kingdom were ordered to return with them to Alexandria in order to plan the attack and collect their share of the weapons, and they were now sat in the back of the car in thoughtful silence.

Meanwhile, Carol was lost in her own thoughts. There was so much room for error… What if they were spotted while taking the outposts, and someone managed to escape back to Sanctuary to warn Negan? What if Sherry was unable to persuade any other captives at Sanctuary to join them? What if Daryl's attack on Negan failed? She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the head rest. The moment Daryl had reappeared in Alexandria, they all should have grabbed some supplies and run. What use were houses and walls, when they were unable to keep out such evil anyway? Why were they so desperate to keep hold of a town that had brought them nothing but misery and pain? They had survived plenty long enough on the road, and they could do so again. They could have gotten away—far away—and never had to worry about that maniac again…

But they hadn't run. And now they were being forced into a war of near impossible odds.

* * *

The stage was set, and every able bodied fighter from Alexandria, Hilltop, and Kingdom had a role to play. They had been split into eight teams, with at least two strong sharp-shooters on each team, who were to take down the enemy snipers and any watchmen on guard duty. The rest were ground troops who would silently move in once Negan's snipers had been taken out. And once the men were killed, and the supplies raided, they would torch the buildings and head back to Alexandria to regroup before the final assault on Sanctuary.

Carol was already in position; the outpost her team had been sent to was a series of abandoned wooden homes in a forest clearing. They had approached from the south and were so far unnoticed. She checked her watch. For the attacks to work, everything had to be perfectly co-ordinated, down to the minute, and there were just under eight minutes to go; if everything was going to plan Sasha should have also been in position. They would attack at precisely 2 o'clock in the morning. Nothing to do except wait.

She quickly went through her equipment, ensuring everything was in working order. Silenced sniper. Night vision binoculars. Pistols, knife, ammo, smoke grenade, frag grenade. Check.

Her mind flashed to Daryl, to the last time she had seen him. She had lost track of how many times they had been separated, and she desperately hoped this time would be the last. She wasn't sure her heart could take being away from him for much longer. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, she prayed that he was still safe, and that when the time came for the attack on Sanctuary, he remained undiscovered until Negan was dead.

Two minutes to go. She checked the position of her target through the binoculars. He was up high in one of the trees, pacing along a platform that had been built, and was entirely unaware that he was being watched.

The seconds dragged on, and her pulse was beating furiously in her ears as the time to strike drew closer. One minute... Thirty seconds… Twenty… Ten… Nine… Eight…

She took a deep breath and found the target through the scope. _Don't think about him. Don't think about his friends, his family, his loved ones…_ Five… Four… Three… Two… One…

She gently squeezed the trigger and the man immediately dropped to the platform floor. She quickly checked through the binoculars once again, and searched the buildings. She could see three men on watch, but no one seemed to have noticed the dead sniper. They were stood perfectly still and Carol aimed her gun at them, staring down the scope at each one. She would have to take each shot quickly, and could not afford a single miss…

She closed her eyes momentarily and took several calming breaths before looking back through the scope, and firing three shots in rapid succession. The three men fell to the ground, and Carol turned and signalled to Michonne who was leading the ground attack from this side. Michonne nodded, and she moved stealthily forward together with several other ground fighters from both Kingdom and Hilltop. If everything was going according to plan, another group led by a former boxer—an enormous tower of a man named Ray who came from Kingdom—would be advancing from the rear of the buildings.

Through the otherworldly green hue of the night vision binoculars, Caryl watched Michonne's group advance. But barely thirty seconds later, an echoing gunshot rang out and one of the men from Kingdom fell to the floor, a dark stain spread out across his chest. Michonne and the others dropped to the ground, desperately looking around for the source of the sniper fire, and moments later another man from Kingdom was downed.

"Shit," hissed Carol, as she desperately searched the area for the hidden sniper. Dwight hadn't mentioned that there would be more than one sniper on this side of the buildings. Either his information was out of date, or he had deliberately misled them. If it was the latter, she would see to him personally, if they got out of this alive…

Another shot rang out but there was no time for Carol to check who, if anyone, it had hit. She quickly reloaded the rifle, and scoured the area to find the sniper taking their people out. A slight movement in the scope caught her eye, and there he was, just west of their position, on a platform high up in one of the sturdier trees. She lined the shot up just as he was about to take another, and fired before he could kill anymore of their people.

But the sound of un-silenced gunfire from the other sniper had alerted Negan's men, and several had now awoken and were beginning to run out of the buildings, looking for the source of the disturbances. Their best hope now was to get it done as quickly and with as few casualties as possible. Several of the men were coming closer and closer to where Michonne's group were hiding. Carol took two shots toward them in rapid progression, downing the two men in the lead. As they fell, Michonne and the others opened fire, and in seconds Negan's men were dead.

Towards the back of the cluster of houses, Carol heard another rattle of gunfire. Sasha's group were clearly also engaged in battle. This wasn't supposed to be happening. It was supposed to be quick. Simple. Silent. Her heart pounded heavily in her ears, and she felt bile begin to rise in her throat. She had allowed that sniper to alert the compound. If any more of her family were killed because of her…if Daryl was lost because of her…

No. She had to see to it that this was ended, and now. She moved from her position and rushed forward to join Michonne and the others. They would put a stop to this together. She joined Michonne's team by the side of one of the buildings, and Ray's group joined shortly after.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, his voice hushed but urgent. "I thought this was supposed to be a silent mission."

"There was an extra sniper that we hadn't accounted for," said Carol. "He got some shots off before I could find him and take him down."

Ray looked around at the surviving group. "David? Jonathan?" he asked.

Michonne's face fell. "They didn't make it. Erica from Hilltop, too."

The briefest glimpse of grief flickered across Ray's face, and was replaced with a stone-cold determination. There would be time later to mourn his fallen friends.

"So what's next?" he asked.

"If Dwight hasn't screwed us for more information, the armory is in that building," she said, pointing. It was clear from her tone that she was as angry as anyone about the incomplete intelligence. "And I'm pretty sure what we've killed so far isn't going to be everyone. They're holed up in there, and they're going to be prepared. What have we got?"

Carol pulled the two grenades from her backpack. "These should take care of most of them," she said.

"It could destroy half the supplies too," said one of the men from Hilltop.

"Better destroyed than in the wrong hands," replied Michonne. "Ok, we get in close, you stay low, throw in the smoke, give it a few seconds, then throw in the frag. Once it goes off, we move in, we clear."

"What about the other buildings?" asked Ray.

"We have to secure this one first. We either take the weapons, or we destroy them. But we do this first."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and at Michonne's signal they quickly crossed to the suspected armory.

"We ready?" asked Michonne once everyone was in position.

Carol ducked to one side of the door, while Ray crouched to the other side. He counted down silently, _Three…Two…One…_ then pulled open the door.

Gunfire immediately crackled through the night, while Carol threw the smoke grenade inside. Thick clouds billowed through the building, as Carol pulled the pin on the frag and rolled it inside. She and Ray swiftly retreated to a safer distance, and moments later, and moments later, the air was torn asunder by the sound of the explosion. They barely had time to catch their breath, when a second, and far bigger, explosion blew the entire building apart, sending everyone in the vicinity flying.

Carol hit the ground heavily, her breath knocked from her lungs. She felt something hot and wet trickling down the side of her face, and there was a terrible and incessant ringing in her ears. There must have been more explosives inside the armory, that the initial explosion had set off.

Through the haze of smoke and burning debris flitting through the air, she opened her eyes to find her companions. They were spread around, slowly stirring on the ground, and then Carol spotted them; three men emerging from one of the other buildings, their guns raised. She tried to sit up, to pull her own weapon on them, or at least to shout out to warn Michonne that they were pointing their weapons directly at her, but the world was spinning dangerously underneath her.

And just as soon as the men appeared, all three dropped down dead, one after the other. Carol wanted to cry with relief; Sasha was still in place, covering them with sniper fire.

She took a deep breath and forced herself up and off the ground, stumbling to the side of one of her nearest allies. "Can you stand?" she asked one of the Kingdom soldiers, reaching a hand out to help him up.

"I think so," he said.

"We need to finish this quickly. If the gunfire hasn't woken up every man here, that explosion will have done it. And it's going to attract every walker for miles around. We clear out the other buildings and we leave."

"Agreed."

She pulled the man to his feet, and as she did so, more gunshot rang out through the clearing. Her ally's eyes grew wide and fearful, and he slid to the ground, as several wounds peppered his back. Carol immediately raised her rifle and found the shooter, but it was too late; through the scope she could see him swarmed by walkers. With a sinking feeling, she pulled the night-vision binoculars from her backpack.

The trees were overrun with walkers heading straight for them. Hundreds of them. Far too many to fight.

"We have to get out of here, now! Everyone, back to the cars! Sasha!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, hoping that she would hear. "You too! Get out of here!"

She turned her head briefly, and could see them moving out of the trees. Pausing only to make sure the dead man from Kingdom wouldn't turn, Carol ran from the onslaught of the dead, ensuring each of their fighters were running too.

She was still a little dizzy and disoriented from the explosion, and with each step she feared that she might fall. When a walker came at her, seemingly out of nowhere, she stumbled with it to the ground, and it took all of her strength to push the thing away from her enough so that she could safely stab it through its head.

She clambered back to her feet. They had hidden the two cars and the pickup truck they had arrived in on a dirt track about a hundred yards into the woods. Up ahead she could see Michonne take down three walkers with a single swing of her katana. If there were as many walkers in that direction as there were coming from behind them…

No. She couldn't think that way. They had to stay alive. They had to make it back. _For_ _him._

Her legs ached, and her lungs burned, and every step cost more and more of her little remaining energy. But the image of Daryl, alive and safely in her arms, blazed in her mind, and she fought through the pain, downing any straggling walkers that dared to come near her.

And the trees began to open out. The ground was flatter and less overgrown. And she could see the cars, her teams rushing towards them, already piling into the safety of them.

Sasha was already at the wheel of a Honda, and the passenger door was open and waiting for her. The second she was inside, Carol pulled the door closed, and Sasha revved the engine, speeding away from the wreck of the Savior's outpost, and from the hundreds of walkers that now swarmed it.

"You ok?" Sasha asked.

Carol nodded silently, desperately catching her breath. She glanced over her shoulder at the men in the back. Two from Hilltop, one from Kingdom. "We made it," she gasped.

"Most of us made it," said one of the men from Hilltop.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Let's just… let's get home. Prepare for our next move."

By the time they made it back, the sun was high up in the sky, only just visible behind a thin layer of white, flat cloud.

Carl pulled open the gates and hugged Michonne as soon as she climbed down from the back of the pickup truck.

"Is Rick back yet?" she asked.

"Not yet. You're only the second group to come back. Abe's group turned up about twenty minutes ago."

"Where is he?" asked Sasha.

"Lying down while he's got the chance. He said the mission was a success, but they had some trouble with walkers."

"Is he hurt?" she demanded.

"No, just exhausted, I think."

Sasha nodded and ran to the house she shared with Abraham, clearly only willing to believe that he was ok once she had seen him with her own eyes.

"You said he had trouble with walkers?" Carol asked.

"Yeah," answered Carl. "They finished the mission, but were nearly overrun on the way out."

Michonne and Carol exchanged a worried look. Another megaherd was the last thing any of them needed to deal with, on top of the fight with Negan.

"What?" said Carl, looking between the two women. "What is it?"

"Nothing," replied Michonne. "Your dad will be home soon. And I'm gonna wait right here with you, so the first thing he sees is his family."

"You still need me?" asked Carol.

"You go get some rest. We'll wake you up when the others get back."

Carol nodded, and indicated to the rest of their strike team to follow her if they wanted to rest up. There was plenty of floor space in the houses after all, if nothing else.

After ensuring that everyone who wanted it had a place to rest their head, Carol went through to her bedroom, and pulled out Daryl's shirt from its hiding place under her pillow. She clutched it close to her heart and thought of nothing but him, soon falling into a fitful, restless sleep.

* * *

 _There were two men ahead of her; one standing tall and proud, the other kneeling and hunched. A look of arrogant triumph was plastered over the tall man's face, and it chilled Carol to her very soul._

 _The figure on his knees looked helpless and broken. His hands were tied behind his back, and a hessian sack had been pulled down roughly over his head. He was the very picture of defeat and despair._

 _Carol watched with baited breath as the tall, gloating figure bent over the hunched one and pulled the bag from his head._

 _Her breath froze in her chest, and her heart pounded painfully in her throat. It was Daryl, and he had been badly beaten. His eyes were dark and swollen, dried blood matted his hair, and his face was covered in lacerations._

 _He looked up briefly. His fearful blue eyes met hers, and the man beside him laughed, raised his gun, and pulled the trigger._

* * *

Carol sat bolt upright on her bed, a sheen of cold sweat covering her skin. _'It was only a dream,'_ she told herself. ' _Only a dream.'_

But the image of Daryl so bloodied and helpless haunted her. She pressed the heels of her shaking palms into her eyes and fought to steady her breathing, when a loud knock at the door startled her.

"Carol?" came Rick's voice. "You awake?"

She swallowed heavily. "Yes. Just give me a minute."

"Everyone's back. We're meeting in the church. It's time to end this."

A mix of relief at the knowledge that her friends were ok, coupled with a terrible anxiety at the enormity of what was to come next, washed over her.

She headed outside into the dusky twilight, and could never have imagined the town looking so crowded with living, breathing folks. Ezekiel was stood on a chair before the assembled crowd, addressing them all.

"I see before me a host of good, true, and brave fighters. And today we scored a victory for freedom. A victory for peace. For morality. Each and every single one of you have made me prouder than you can imagine; both those of you I know, and love, and cherish, and those of you I have yet to have the pleasure of knowing. But our fight is far from ended! Let us ride this victory forward to its only conclusion! Come the morning we will march on Sanctuary and the tyrant who dwells there, so that we may never have to live in fear of the living again!"

A cheer rose from the crowd, and Carol rolled her eyes. She was not in any mood for such over-dramatics. Not when Daryl's life was still so heavily in danger, and especially not considering the dreadful nightmare she had just woken up from.

"His speech is a little premature, considering we haven't even made our plans yet, but I suppose he's good for morale," said a voice at her ear, and she turned to see Rick stood beside her, a half-smile on his face. "Come on, I want to hear how every raid went, and I want to get this done."

Together they walked to far less crowded confines of the church. Every now and then Carol would shudder, as the image of Daryl forced to his knees and waiting for death crept back into her mind. And each time, she forced the terrible image away. ' _It's not real,'_ she reminded herself over and over again. ' _It's not real.'_

As soon as everyone was gathered, they began to give their reports about their respective raids, and Carol listened intently. Almost everything appeared to have gone like clockwork, and they had lost very few fighters. Indeed, the only other group that seemed to have encountered any form of trouble were Abraham's group, who had only just escaped a sizeable herd as they were leaving.

"We had problems," said Carol when she came to deliver their report. "There was an extra sniper hidden that we weren't told about."

There was the sound of outcry in the room as all heads turned angrily to face Dwight. "I didn't know!" he said desperately. "They must have increased the fortifications since I was last there!"

"How many people did we lose?"

"Four in total," said Michonne. "We were lucky isn't wasn't more. And we weren't able to bring any weapons back. But Negan won't be getting them either. The whole armory was destroyed."

"And you wiped out all of his people too?"

"Everyone we saw," said Carol. "And if there were any left… they wouldn't have lasted long."

"The explosion drew walkers from all around," explained Michonne. "Hundreds of them."

"You met walkers too?" asked Rick.

"Which direction were they coming from?" asked Dwight. "Show me on the map." Michonne did so, and he immediately paled significantly. "And Abraham? What about the ones you encountered?"

"Came in like a shitstorm on speed from the west," he said. "Only just high tailed our asses outta there."

Dwight swallowed nervously. "This…changes things."

"What?" snapped Rick.

He refused to make eye contact with any of them. "The direction you said they came from… if you were both absolutely right, and if nothing moves them off course… those herds are both heading directly for Sanctuary. They'll probably already have it surrounded."

"But…there were hundreds of them," said Carol, terror cracking the edge of her voice.

"This could well be fortune smiling on us all," said Ezekiel. "This may be the end of Negan, without any of us having to shed more blood."

"But Daryl's there!" she said passionately.

"And so is Sherry!" added Dwight.

No one looked at them. They all knew the likelihood of surviving so many walkers; it was as if they had all already given both Dwight and Sherry up for dead.

"I'm going after him," she said into the protracted silence.

"You'll be killed," said Rick. "We can't risk losing you."

"I don't care," said Carol. "I have to go after him."

"And I'm coming with you," said Dwight. "I know the quickest routes. I have to know if she made it out."

"Anyone else?" she asked. "Or are you just giving up on him?"

"I'll come with you," said Aaron. "Daryl saved my life while we were scouting more times that I care to admit. It's the least I can do for him."

"Count me in," said Morgan. "Knowing either way is the only way you'll find peace."

"Get ready, then," she said. "We leave in ten minutes."

"Carol," said Rick in a low voice, gently gripping her upper arm. "You don't have to do this."

"I don't have a choice, Rick," she said, shrugging him away. "He'd do the same for me. He'd do the same for any of you."

Guilt flashed momentarily over his face, to be replaced with a gentle concern. Eventually he nodded and pulled her into a hug. "I have to stay here. I can't risk… I need to be here for my boy. My daughter."

"I know, Rick."

"You stay safe. If it's overrun, you get out of there, and you come back."

She nodded silently. Truth was, if she arrived at Sanctuary and it was clear that Daryl hadn't made it… she wasn't sure what she would do. She would cross that terrifying bridge if—or when—she came to it.

After loading a station wagon up with a supplies—guns, ammo, some pain meds, and protein bars—she waited by the trunk as she watched Aaron say his farewell to Eric. It was a tearful goodbye, and understandably so; since Negan had made his presence known, Aaron had barely left Eric's side. They simply couldn't face being apart ever again, just in case it was their last day alive.

Carol blinked back her own tears. It wouldn't be Daryl's last day. Nor would it be Aaron's, or any of them. There would be countless days ahead of them, with nothing to do except _live._ There had to be.

With one last tearful kiss, Aaron extricated himself from Eric's arms, and the four of them piled into the station wagon and pulled away.

No one spoke on the journey. They were all far too lost within their own dark thoughts. All Carol could do was to remind herself over and over that they had survived the megaherd before. It was possible. It could be done with enough courage and determination, and Daryl had those qualities in abundance.

But they hadn't also had to compete with a deranged sociopath as well.

They had been on the road for a few hours when Aaron suddenly broke the silence. "There's a convoy coming up ahead," he said.

Carol could see it too in the distance. The lights from five vehicles were rushing towards them at a great speed. She felt an ice-like fear grip her heart at the sight of it.

"Shit," hissed Dwight, and he quickly turned off the station wagons headlights, slammed on the brakes, and steered the car onto the grassy verge. "Everyone out, and get into the trees, now. Don't be seen." The four of them quickly ducked into the tree line as the sound of roaring engines and screeching tyres pulled closer.

They stayed low to the ground and utterly silent as the convoy tore past them. Four army trucks and an RV. None of the drivers slowed down for even a second as they raced past the abandoned car; such sights were so common place as to attract no attention.

Beside her, Aaron's breathing had become shallow and hitched. "It's him," he said in a low voice. "It's Negan."

"Definitely," said Dwight. "That was his RV. I'd recognise it anywhere."

"Looks like he's heading back to town," added Morgan. "He must know about the attacks."

"We have to go back," said Aaron. "We have to protect the town."

"We have to find Daryl," said Carol urgently.

"And I have to protect Eric," said Aaron with just as much urgency.

"And Sherry," said Dwight. "I can't just leave her to die."

"Carol, Dwight," said Morgan. "If Negan has escaped the walkers and is on his way back to Alexandria—"

"Don't say it," said Carol, tears welling up in her eyes. There was no way that he could be dead. No way at all. She would know, she was sure of it. She would know deep down…

"Carol, there aren't many options here. Either Daryl…either he didn't make it past the walkers, or he did. And with Negan speeding towards Alexandria, it's safe to say some people made it out. And like I said, I'd be willing to bet he knows about his fallen outposts. And if that's the case, then either Negan has already taken his revenge…or he hasn't. If you want to know where Daryl is, if you want to know if Sherry is still alive, our best bet is to follow Negan."

The world seemed to be closing in around her. Her pulse pounded a furious drumbeat in her ears. She placed her hands on the cool, damp grass to steady herself, and took several deep, calming breaths. Eventually she nodded, and looked up at Dwight. He seemed conflicted, but eventually he nodded too.

"Let's go, then," said Aaron. "We follow, but we keep our distance. Don't give up, either of you. This is our chance to end this war, once and for all. And… we'll find them. Daryl's a survivor, Carol. You know that."

She nodded, but was entirely numb as she stumbled back to the car. For better or worse, this war was indeed coming to an end for her. One way or another.


	7. Chapter 7

Daryl's return to Sanctuary had not given him the promotion within Negan's ranks that he had hoped for. While Negan had been pleased with him for returning his wife—and Daryl despised himself for the sense of validation even such a minor praise from a monster gave him—he had reminded Daryl that he would have been awarded more points for bringing back Dwight alive. And once his and Sherry's story about walkers overrunning them had been corroborated by a scouting team, he had barely earned anything at all thanks to the loss of the rest of the crew.

More than anything, he had just wanted to be allowed to carry a weapon. Anything at all would have sufficed; he had no idea how long he would have to wait for his friends to attack, but he wanted to be ready when they did, and without a weapon, he had no idea how he would safely take Negan down.

He had, at least, been allowed to do work other than the most basic sorting of supplies. The fences needed constant attention, especially with the chained walkers surrounding them; it would be a foolish thing for them to be attacked by one of their main defences, after all.

And so he had been set to work with a group of others to reinforce the points of the fence that were beginning to buckle. There were four of them working on a particular spot, vaguely watched over by an armed henchman.

Each of the three other men had the haunted, defeated look in their eyes that everyone on the bottom-most rung of Negan's operation had. Daryl had no idea how long any of them had been imprisoned here, but he was determined to be free before that look became a permanent feature on his own face.

"Here," he said, as one of the men—a stocky blond guy in his late twenties—struggled to place one end of a huge wooden brace into a hole in the ground. Daryl held the plank steady while the other man guided it in, and then together they pushed the brace up against the fence.

"Thanks," said the guy. "Didn't have time to eat before they got me out here this morning. I don't think physical labor is the best thing for me," he added with a self-deprecating smile.

"What's your name?" asked Daryl.

"Glenn," responded the man, and the name was like a punch to Daryl's stomach. He stared momentarily at the hand outstretched towards him, before he realised he was supposed to shake it. "And you are…?"

"Daryl," he responded shortly. A vague feeling of guilt hung over his shoulders; it wasn't this guy's fault that he had the same name as Daryl's murdered surrogate brother. "How long ya been here?"

Glenn shook his head. "No idea. Months? A year? It's impossible to say."

Once they were certain that the bottom of the brace wasn't going anywhere, they moved to the top end, nailing it into place. Just on the other side of the wall there was the constant sound of the walkers moaning and groaning, their rotten jaws perpetually snapping. Daryl listened for a moment, suddenly aware of how precarious and dangerous it was to be surrounded so closely by the dead. He had always tried to push that thought from his mind, but being so close to them, it was impossible to forget.

"What were ya doin' before?" he asked as a means to distract himself from the noise.

"Surviving," said Glenn. "But barely."

"And ya think it's better here?"

Glenn paused before answering, the haunted look in his eyes growing more prominent. "I've not had to fight my way through a hundred rotters since I've been here. I've not had to watch my friends, my family die. But…" His eyes suddenly grew wide and fearful, and he dropped respectfully to one knee.

Daryl turned and saw Negan walking towards them. Begrudgingly, he did the same. Negan didn't so much as look at them as he swaggered past.

"But you're fed up of bowin' to that bastard?" said Daryl in a low voice, once Negan was out of earshot.

Glenn nodded shortly. "Come on," he said. "Let's get this finished. If we're quick we might earn a bigger lunch."

"So, you'd fight back against him if ya had the chance?" pressed Daryl.

Glenn quickly looked from side to side, at the armed guard who wasn't paying them much mind, and at Negan's retreating back. "You looking to get us shot?" he hissed. "Or worse?"

"Naw, man," replied Daryl. "Jus' thinkin' out loud is all."

Glenn narrowed his eyes and went back to work in silence, Daryl joining him a second later. He had no idea how well Sherry was doing at convincing people to fight back, but he had mostly experienced varying degrees of similar attitudes to Glenn's. Everyone was too scared to commit. And Daryl couldn't say that he blamed them. Their fear was tangible and justified.

Despite the cold, wintery air, sweat was pouring down his face as he worked as hard as possible; he didn't know when Rick and the rest would be attacking, but Glenn was right. They could earn a bigger meal from this job, and if he was fighting back alone, he'd prefer to do it on a full stomach.

Suddenly, one of the men on guard duty shouted at the top of his lungs. "Boss? We got a big fucking problem!"

Daryl looked up sharply, his heart pounding hard in his chest. Surely they weren't attacking now, in the middle of the day? It was suicide to do something so idiotic…

But sure enough, some of the men on the guard towers were already starting to fire. Daryl looked around desperately for anything he could use as a weapon; his best bet was surely to try and take down one of the guards and steal his gun, but until they were in the middle of a full battle, he'd be shot on sight if he attempted such a move. Why the _fuck_ was Rick attacking now? It made no sense…

"Stop firing, you dumbass fucks!" shouted Negan. "You'll attract more of them!"

Daryl practically sighed with relief. From the sound of it, it was just walkers. He was still in with a chance of recruiting fighters and gaining a weapon before the final assault.

"We got more coming over here, boss!" shouted a man from another guard tower.

He watched as Negan raced to a different guard tower and climbed up, then swore violently. He looked ready to kill as he climbed back down. "Everyone inside," he shouted. "Now!"

Daryl's short-lived relief quickly evaporated. Maybe it was more than just a few walkers? He hung back a moment, hoping to pick up on more information, but they were all forcefully shepherded indoors. As usual, the workers bowed towards Negan at the sight of him, but he had no time for his usual theatrics. He jumped up on the main sorting table and addressed the room.

"We've got herds heading directly for us. And I mean a fucking shit-ton of them. Must have wiped out the outposts, because that is the _only_ acceptable reason for no one warning us of this. They'll be at the fences in minutes. We let the fuckers build up at the fences, they're going to knock them right down and take us out with them. So we direct their flow. We open the front gates and let the dead fuckers come right at us. Every one of you worthless fucks gets to prove yourself today. You'll be given a weapon. And you'll be out there, fighting back the hordes of the dead. And we're going to win. Are any of you pussies too scared to fight? Let me know now."

Not a single person spoke up, and Negan looked around suspiciously.

"You sure? Be fucking honest with me, because I'm not watching out for any pansy-ass pussies who can't hold their own in a fight. You're too fucking scared to face the dead, step forward now. You can cry and suck your fucking thumbs upstairs whilst us real men take care of this."

A few people nervously stepped forward, and Negan nodded at them to make their way to the next level up. As soon as their backs were turned, he grabbed an assault rifle from ones of his men and mowed them down in cold blood.

"Anyone else?" he shouted. No one spoke. "Fucking good. Trev? See to it everyone gets something. We do this hand to hand. We all go out there, guns blazing, and we're going to attract every fucking dead piece of shit in Virginia."

All around him, people were starting to whimper in terror. So many of the people here were so desperately subjugated and used to being behind walls, that they had forgotten how to fight. Daryl swore he'd do what he could to protect them from the walkers, but if there was a chance to take Negan down, this was too perfect an opportunity to miss. He could end Negan's reign of terror without any of his Alexandria family having to be involved at all.

And if he ended up being taken down by walkers himself… well, at least it meant that Negan no longer had any hold over Carol. She'd be free.

He was eventually armed with a sharp hunting knife, and _goddamn_ did it feel good to be armed once again, especially with the knowledge that he could end everything at last. He knew he'd only get one shot at this, and if he failed, it'd destroy everything. He had to pick his moment carefully, and make sure he wasn't seen. It'd be a damn stupid decision to try and attack Negan, only to get shot in the back by one of his henchmen.

As he waited out in the courtyard for the coming battle, he took a look around at the terrified faces of the people who weren't used to fighting to survive. Undoubtedly a lot of them were facing their deaths. Very briefly he caught Glenn's eye, and nodded in his direction. Glenn nodded back, determination underlined by fear etched into his features.

At last the gates were opened, and Daryl could finally see just how many walkers they were facing. Hundreds of them, stumbling blindly forwards. Daryl took several deep breaths and focused on the main task ahead; staying alive in the face of the overwhelming numbers of rotting corpses trying to tear them apart.

Negan was the first to step straight into the fray, taking down three walkers with a single powerful swing. Everyone else took their lead from him and it was not long before Daryl was covered in thick, greasy, stinking walker blood. The walkers came at them all relentlessly. Over and over he brought his knife down into their skulls, and they kept falling at his feet, more of them coming forwards, tripping over the bodies, their arms outstretched and jaws constantly snapping.

Every now and then he heard a terrible, blood curdling scream, as one of their own fell to the interminable onslaught. If only there was a way to distract Negan—even just for a moment—so that he could be bitten, without getting attacked himself…

First things first—he had to fight his way closer to Negan. He ducked and weaved through the masses of the dead, felling them with each step, and often saving the lives of people fighting without them realizing. At one point he noticed a walker getting dangerously close to Glenn, who was struggling to pull his knife back out from a walker he had just ended. Daryl managed to dispatch the walker just moments before it sunk its rotten teeth into the back of Glenn's neck.

"Thanks," panted Glenn as he realized that Daryl had just saved his life.

"Don't mention it," replied Daryl, turning back into the crowd of walkers.

And then he was only yards away from Negan, fighting throught the waves of the dead, and Daryl saw his opening. A gap in the wave of walkers headed towards him. He side stepped closer to Negan who was swinging his barbed baseball bat so wildly that it would take split second timing to land a fatal blow. But if he didn't take the opportunity while it was there, he might not get another chance.

He quickly glanced around; none of Negan's henchmen would notice if their leader was attacked, as they were all too busy fighting the walkers. Daryl came in close behind him, ready to plunge his knife into the base of Negan's skull, but at the last second Negan turned and saw the betrayal. He roared wildly and threw an elbow back, knocking the knife in Daryl's hand to the floor.

Negan swung the bat, and Daryl nimbly jumped away from its deadly arc. He ducked to the ground to pick up the knife, but once again Negan's bat came flying through the air, and Daryl had to roll to the side to safety. He swore as Negan kicked his knife into the middle of a cluster of walkers that had huddled around a fallen body. The loss of his weapon meant that he'd have to take Negan down by hand.

Without thinking twice, he charged at Negan, catching him around the waist, and knocked him to the ground. The deadly bat slid from his grasp, and Daryl managed to get one really good punch to the bastard's jaw. He looked up briefly; walkers were closing in on them. He quickly scrambled away from their outstretched hands, but Negan tightly gripped hold of his ankle, and he tripped to the floor.

He heard several gunshots and glanced back over his shoulder. Negan had shot the walkers before they could bite him. Daryl swore viciously, and quickly crawled towards Negan's fallen bat, but just as he reached for it, he heard a familiar loud click by his ear, and the feel of cold, hard metal pressing into the back of his head.

"Just try and fucking touch her and see what happens," shouted Negan. "Get him inside," he said, and two of Negan's men grabbed hold of him and pulled him to his feet. Negan picked up his bat, and continued to swing at the oncoming walkers. "Tie him up, beat the shit out of him if you must, but whatever you fuckers do, you don't kill him. That piece of shit is mine. We're clearing the rest of these dead fucks right now."

He struggled desperately to free himself from their grasp, but they managed to overpower him and dragged him inside Sanctuary's factory walls. His hands were pulled behind his back, and a moment later he felt the sting as a cable tie was pulled too tightly around his wrists. A sharp kick to the back of his legs followed and he fell forward, painfully smashing his knees on the concrete ground, as a second cable tie was tightened around his ankles.

He had failed. He didn't care about his own death. That was irrelevant. But Carol… He couldn't allow her to be harmed. The thought of Carol dying the same way Glenn had died… no. He grappled against the cable ties, but they just cut into the exposed skin of his wrists.

From outside the walls, Daryl could hear the sound of rapid gunfire. Apparently Negan no longer cared about killing the walkers quietly; he just wanted it done quickly.

Daryl fought hard against the prickling feeling behind his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was to show these assholes weakness, but it was overwhelming. He blinked, and could feel the hot tears burning a trail down his cheeks.

It wasn't fair. He was supposed to be the one to save her. He _had_ saved her. After failing to save her little girl, he had promised himself that he wouldn't let any more harm befall her. And now she was facing the most horrific death imaginable, and it was entirely his fault. Merle. Hershel. Beth. Denise. Glenn. All dead because of him. And now Carol as well.

He could no longer hold it in and his despair was wrenched from him in animalistic cry. He was vaguely aware of the laughter from the men holding him captive, and as he cried he became aware that the sound of gunfire outside was dying down. Eventually it stopped entirely, and was replaced by the sound of heavy boots stomping towards him. A hand roughly grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back, and he was looking straight into the furious eyes of the madman that he was supposed to kill.

"I fucking warned you, you stupid piece of shit," Negan shouted, and his fist connected painfully with Daryl's stomach. He doubled over, heaving and retching. "So now, you have to pay. And so does little Carol. As soon as we've dealt with the last of the biters, we're taking a little trip to your home town. And you get to watch as I smash your milf's head in. Then you get to join her. And I fucking promise, I'm going to make it slow. And just so you know, that town is going to be _so_ fucked. I'm not taking half anymore. I'm taking half, and half again. And every piece of shit living there is going to curse your name every fucking day until they day they die, wasted and starved, because they'll all know that it's _your_ fucking fault that they have to live on so little."

The world before his eyes swam dangerously, then rapidly closed in on him. White noise echoed loudly in his ears, and a layer of cold sweat covered his body. He fought hard against the feeling of vertigo, but unconsciousness quickly embraced him.

* * *

He opened his eyes but it was still dark. A piece of cloth had been roughly tied around his mouth, and a scratchy hessian sack pulled down over his head. He was lying on the floor of a fast moving vehicle; he could feel every lump and bump in the road as he was tossed from side to side. His captors didn't know he was awake, and he was more than happy for it to stay that way.

"What the actual _fuck?"_ shouted Negan suddenly, and the vehicle screeched to a halt. "What in the ever-living _fucking fuck?"_

"Walkers didn't do this," said one of the men. "They've destroyed _everything_."

"You think I'm so fucking blind that I can't tell that for myself?"

"Do you think the other outposts are the same?" said another man.

There was a pregnant pause, then Negan spoke again. "This is his people," he said. "I don't know how the fuck they found us, but they did it before, and they've done it again. Yes, I think the other outposts are as fucked as this one. Looks like their fucking leader is going to have to pay with his life as well, then."

Fear gripped Daryl in an ice cold vice. It was the third time in his life that he had felt entirely helpless, but this time it was far, far worse. As he had waited in line to be slaughtered at Terminus, and as he had knelt before Negan for the first ever time, his thoughts had turned to Carol. He'd thought of her smile, and focused on the times that she had smiled because of him. And he had comforted himself with the knowledge that she was still alive, safe and far away.

But now, he was being taken to witness her death, and that of his brother, before his own brutal execution. His breathing turned shallow as panic overwhelmed him, and he struggled to extricate himself from the tight bonds around his wrists.

"Boss?" called a nearby voice. "He's awake and thrashing about back here."

"Then knock him the fuck out, and stop fucking bothering me."

A hand roughly grabbed the back of his hair through the hessian sack and slammed him to the floor. Through the darkness flashed a blinding white light, and then there was nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

Following Negan's convoy was like being trapped in a nightmare. No one spoke as they drove along in the dark. Morgan had taken the wheel; he was clearly concerned that if either Carol or Dwight drove, they might turn around and try to reach Sanctuary, and if Aaron drove, he might get too close to the convoy in an attempt to get back to Alexandria faster.

All Carol could think of was that they were potentially driving away from Daryl, that they may have left him at the mercy of the enormous herd. The reasoning that Negan and some of his men had clearly got out alive wasn't enough to convince her of Daryl's safety at all. Nothing would be, until she saw him with her own two eyes.

The sun was beginning to rise as Negan finally approached Alexandria. Morgan pulled the car to the side of the road, and the four of them got out silently, approaching the convoy from the relative safety of the trees.

Around fifty men piled out of the trucks and the RV, each of them armed. A palpable hatred emanated from Carol as Negan climbed out of the passenger side of the RV. But her hatred turned to fear as moments later a familiar figure was also dragged from the RV. His hands were tied behind his back, his feet tied together, and a bag had been forced down over his head, but Carol would have recognised him anywhere.

"Oh, God no…" she whispered. Tears immediately stung her eyes, but she raised her sniper and stared down the sights. Negan's head was directly in the crosshairs and she held her breath as she moved her finger over the trigger.

"No," whispered Morgan, pushing the gun's barrel to one side. "Not like that. You'll get him killed straight away."

He was right of course, but she couldn't help the major spike of anger at his words. Negan would die today. For all the suffering he had caused, he _would_ die today. She would see to that.

"Rick!" shouted Negan, his voice echoing in the stillness of dawn. "Get the fuck out here! You and me got unfinished business!"

He gave Daryl a huge kick to the backs of his legs, forcing him to his knees, and pulled the bag from his head. Even at a distance, Carol could tell from his posture that he was utterly defeated. The sight caused a physical ache in her chest, and she stealthily moved forward through the trees, closer towards her lover and her enemies.

Whoever was in the guard tower had clearly signalled to the rest of the town, because lights were coming on, and Carol could hear the panicked commotion as people realised what was going on.

In the distance, behind the gates, Carol heard Rick's voice.

"Your next collection's not for another week. I don't know what you're doing here, but we've got no business."

"Don't fuck me, Rick! I know you were behind the fucking attacks, you stupid piece of shit! You really think you could win? After everything, you really thought you could fuck me? I got news for you, no one fucks me. I fuck whoever I want but NO ONE fucks me. So, here's the one time fucking offer I'm making to the rest of the town. You give me Rick so I can shoot him in the face. And you give me Carol so I can make this little son of a bitch watch me smash her skull to pieces. Then I smash his fucking brains out, and we'll all go back to normal. You don't give me what I want, and I swear to fucking God, Buddha, Krishna, Allah, or whoever you pansy-ass motherfucks pray to, I'm not stopping until every last one of you assholes is dead. You have two minutes."

They could see Negan pacing before the gates like a caged lion, and an echoing shot suddenly rang out. A man had been stood directly behind Daryl, and he dropped to the floor, a bullet between his eyes. Around twenty guns were immediately trained on the guard and fired over and over again. Whoever had been up there moved no more.

"Not fucking cool!" shouted Negan. He reached into a pocket and threw something over the fences. Moments later, an enormous explosion shook the ground. Negan was throwing grenades into the town.

They had to make a move, they had to help, and the four of them crept forward through the trees just as Negan threw another grenade over the fences. He turned to three of his men and shouted, "Guard him. He goes nowhere until he's seen the dead body of his woman. The rest of us are going in."

He ordered one of his men to drive one of the army trucks straight into the fences, and it came down a few seconds later.

It was immediate pandemonium. The air was rent with the sound of bullets tearing through it, and more explosions sounded every few seconds. This was their one chance to get to Daryl; no one knew that they were outside the walls and the three men guarding him could easily be overpowered, as long as they timed their attack perfectly.

Carol checked down the scope of her sniper; Daryl was still slumped forward in an attitude of grim defeat. She nodded towards Aaron and Dwight, both of whom also carried scoped weapons.

"I'll take the one in the middle," she said. "Aaron, you take the guy on the left. Dwight, the one on the right. We fire together. Don't even think about missing, ok?"

All three of them lined up their shots. Carol's heart was pounding harder than ever, the sensation causing a dreadful rushing in her ears. "Ready?" she asked, and the two men next to her both made a noise of affirmation. "After three…. One… two...three!"

Daryl's three guards dropped down to the floor, and Daryl was immediately looking around for his personal saviors; whereas before he had all but given up, suddenly he could see the slightest ray of hope.

She didn't stop to wait another second. Breaking cover from the trees, she ran towards him, falling to her knees before him.

His eyes widened in a terrible kind of fear as his gaze fell on her, and she pulled the gag out of his mouth. "You gotta get out of here," he said in a hushed and hurried voice. "You can't let him see ya. I ain't losin' you."

"And I'm not losing you," she said. She ducked behind him, and quickly cut the ties that were binding his hands and feet, and in a split second he turned and enveloped her in his arms.

But there was no time to enjoy their reunion. She helped him to his feet, wincing at the clear extent of his bruising. His skin where it wasn't bruised was unusually pale, which threw into stark contrast the maps of black and blue that covered his arms and face. She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall as she gently traced her fingertips down the side of his face, especially as he flinched even under her tender touch.

"Sherry," said Dwight urgently from behind Daryl, interrupting them, and Daryl turned to face him. "Is she alive?"

"She was when they took me," he answered.

"The herd?" he asked.

"As far as I know, they wiped it out."

He nodded but still looked panicked. "I have to go," he said. "I have to know for definite."

"You gonna give somethin' back to me before ya do?" said Daryl.

"You've got to be kidding me," replied Dwight, and he pushed past to get into one of Negan's army trucks. Simultaneously, four guns were raised and pointed in his direction.

"Ain't gonna ask again," said Daryl.

Dwight glared back, but could see that he wasn't going to be beaten. With a great deal of reluctance he handed Daryl his crossbow, and grabbed an assault rifle from the body of one of Negan's fallen guards.

"Hope she's ok," said Daryl. "She's a good woman."

"I know," said Dwight, as he reached under the truck's dashboard in order to hotwire it. With a roar, the truck jumped into life. "Good luck," he said. "Maybe next time we see each other, it won't be under such dire circumstances."

Without stopping to wait for an answer, the truck tore away down the road, away from Alexandria.

Several more explosions tore through the air, and Carol, Daryl, Aaron, and Morgan all turned to look towards the destruction of the town.. Carol swallowed her terrible apprehension. It felt as though she had killed more people since her promise to herself to never kill again than she had before. But this was important. This was their home. And she was not about to lose her home again, not when she finally had a future that had promised her happiness, at long last. After everything they had been through both before the end of the world and after it, she and daryl deserved that chance, at least.

"No one hesitate to take these people out," she said, catching Morgan's eye, and she could tell from the look he gave her that he knew she was trying to convince herself as much as him.

"You ain't goin' in there," said Daryl.

"You're not stopping me."

She could see a muscle working in his jaw; he knew damn well that wild horses couldn't stop her from trying to defend their home. But he certainly didn't have to like it. He gave the slightest of nods. "You stay behind me," he said. "I ain't gonna let anythin' happen to ya."

"Let's go," said Aaron as yet another explosion destroyed one of the houses. The fear for Eric was written all over his face.

But before they could enter the town's walls, they were all distracted by the familiar, stumbling and groaning sounds of approaching walkers. All the noise from the battle taking place within Alexandria's walls had been bound to attract them, but many of them were starting to emerge from the trees.

"No," said Aaron at the sight of them. "Not now." He raised his gun and took down the five nearest to them with swift headshots, then ducked inside Alexandria's walls, soon disappearing amidst the thick smoke of the burning town.

"Both of you should get in there," said Morgan. "I'll take care of the rest of the walkers out here."

"Come on," said Daryl, as he too took one of the assault rifles from Negan's dead guards, then carefully climbed through the broken fence, Carol following in his wake.

It was chaos. Buildings were on fire, the constant _rat-a-tat_ of bullets rang in her ears, and already Carol could see the dead bodies of several people lying in the streets. She didn't recognise them immediately, but whether they were Saviors, or from Hilltop or Kingdom, she didn't know.

There must have been another breach in the walls, because there were already a handful of walkers in the streets, some of which had already caught and were feasting on an unfortunate soul. His screams pierced their ears, and Carol nodded to one of the homes across the street that was still standing. It would provide them with a good amount of cover, it would get them away from the dangerous breach behind them, and it meant that they could take out those walkers—and put down whoever had been bitten—on the way past.

A great sense of relief flooded her when she realised that the man who had been attacked by walkers was not a member of her family, and she put a quick bullet between his eyes to put a stop to his screams.

The majority of the shouting and the noise seemed to be coming from the center of town. "That's where Negan will be," said Carol, as they ducked down the side of the house to plan their next move. "It's where we need to go."

"I don't want you goin' anywhere near him," said Daryl. "You ain't seen up close what he can do."

"And he hasn't seen what I can do," replied Carol.

"Please," begged Daryl, panic clouding his face. "I… I can't… I… I love ya. And I can't—"

She knew just how much those words would have cost him, and tentatively snaked her hand behind his head, entwining her fingers into his hair. Very gingerly, as if she were afraid to break him, she pulled him towards her, gently crushing her lips against his in a tender and languid kiss. She could taste the salt of his tears and the bitter, metallic tang of dried blood, but in that moment, it was the most perfect kiss that she could imagine.

She wanted the moment to last forever, but the crackling sound of bullets and the acrid smell of smoke were harsh reminders of the danger they were in. "I love you, too," she choked out, resting her forehead against his. "And we are getting through this."

There was a disbelief in his eyes, and it hit her with a dreadful pang that it was very likely the first time Daryl had heard those words spoken to him. She cradled his cheek in the palm of her hand, and softly wiped the tears that fell from his eyes with the pad of her thumb.

"I don't wanna be on my own again," he said.

She placed her hand over his heart, and could feel it racing beneath her touch. "You won't have to be," she said. "But we have to end this. We have to end _him._ We'll be together, ok?"

He nodded breathlessly, and just as he did so, two of Negan's men turned the corner and spotted them. "Fuck!" shouted one of them. "He's here!"

But Daryl immediately silenced him with a crossbow bolt to his skull, while Carol shot his companion. "We gotta move," he said, and after quickly retrieving the bolt, they looked around the corner. Shots were being fired from all directions, but it was clear that the Saviors had not counted on there being anyone from either the Kingdom or from Hilltop at Alexandria.

There were walkers everywhere, and both Daryl and Carol fought them as they pushed forward through the town. They saw many of their friends fighting for their lives; Michonne's sword swung so fast they could barely see the blade, as both the living and the dead fell before her. Sasha and Abraham were back to back, shooting the Saviors and stabbing any walkers that came near them. And taking cover by the side of the church, they found Carl firing a silenced pistol at any foes in his sights, and Maggie beside him, her belly swollen and her face contorted with rage.

As soon as Carol saw Maggie, she ran to her and threw her arms around her. "I thought you were in Hilltop," Carol said. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to know our plan was workin' out right," she said. "I arrived 'bout an hour after you left. It's been… hard. And it's hard bein' back here. But I'm glad I am. I'm gonna see that sonofabitch dead. For Glenn."

Carol nodded but couldn't help her eyes straying to Maggie's prominent bump. "You just make sure you stay safe, ok?"

"I will be."

"Have either of you seen my dad?" asked Carl.

"Not yet," said Daryl. "But he'll be ok."

"I know he will," replied Carl, as he calmly took down a nearby walker. "He's gotta be."

Leaving Carl and Maggie behind, they pressed onwards, further into the heart of the town. The explosions seemed to have stopped, which suggested that Negan had run out of grenades, but the damage that he had already caused the town was extensive, and the amount of walkers summoned by the noise almost overwhelming. And all about them was the evidence of Negan's presence; more and more dead bodies with smashed craniums, but no sight of the man himself.

Here in the center of town, as well as the walkers, they encountered more Saviors than before, and Daryl took them down ruthlessly, spraying them with bullets from his rifle.

And at last they saw Rick, surrounded by walkers but standing his ground, hacking at them with a machete, and one by one they fell before his blade.

But he was so preoccupied with the dead, that he hadn't noticed the other threat coming up behind him. Negan raised his deadly bat, but Carol had him in her sights. She raised her gun, ready to fire, but just as she pulled the trigger, she became aware of the walker that was practically on top of her. She turned quickly, and took the walker down, while at the same time she heard a roar of absolute rage.

She quickly turned back towards Rick and Negan; her distraction by the walker had ruined her shot, and Negan was still alive. But her shot had splintered and destroyed the barbed-wire wrapped bat, as well as alerting Rick to his presence.

Several things happened at once. Negan, robbed of his favorite weapon, reached for a .44 Magnum that was strapped to his side. Daryl raised his crossbow and fired; the bolt pierced Negan's hand my as he pointed the Magnum towards Rick, forcing him to drop it. Rick raised his machete high above his head, and was just able to bring it down upon Negan's skull when a voice shouted, "STOP!"

Maggie stepped forward out of the smoke. There was a look of cold determination on her face. She was a woman with only one thing on her mind; vengeance.

"He's mine," she said

No one would deny her that request, but she never gave them the chance. Without waiting for an answer, she strode up to him, pulled out her pistol, rammed it against his forehead and pulled the trigger.

It was over.

* * *

 **A/N-** Thanks for reading everyone! Only one more chapter to go!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N -** This is the final chapter, so thank you for reading, and please do leave a review to let me know what you think.

* * *

Very slowly, Daryl opened his eyes. The sun was already up, its unseasonably warming rays pouring in through the window. He reached out towards Carol, but her side of the bed was empty. He had no idea when or why he had started sleeping later than her. The idea had crossed his mind that for the first time ever in his life, he was no longer forced to look after himself. And he was finally safe.

The most enticing smells were drifting up from downstairs, causing his stomach to rumble, and he smiled at how readily Carol had fallen into her new role in the town.

A few minutes later their bedroom door opened, and Carol came in bearing a tray, loaded with several slices of fresh toast, a pot of plum jam, and a glass of apple juice. "Happy birthday, Pookie," she said.

He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. There was no way of knowing for definite what the date was, but Eric had obsessively marked off the days since the turn, and he was pretty certain that he hadn't missed any. And if he was right, then today was indeed Daryl's birthday.

Growing up, his birthdays had meant next to nothing to him. Especially given the awkward date of them. They were all but forgotten or ignored. Merle might have shoplifted a candy bar for him if he wasn't in juvie at the time, or as he got a little older, a pack of smokes or a beer, but actually celebrating his time on the planet had never really occurred to him.

Still, there were those times when his birthday happened to fall on exactly the _right_ day, and whether anyone else remembered it or not, it made him feel a little special.

And if Eric's tracking of the dates was right, and it was the 29th of February, today was only the eleventh time in his life that had happened. And receiving breakfast in bed from the most perfect woman he could ever have imagined was undoubtedly the best present he had ever received.

She placed the tray in front of him, and he gave her a half-smile at the sight of the delicious, homemade food.

"No butter?" he joked.

"Haha," she deadpanned. "And you should go easy on the juice. That's the last of it until we press some more. But I think I've finally got the bread perfected. What do you think?"

He grabbed one of the crisp, warm slices and slathered it with sweet jam before taking a huge bite. He couldn't help the appreciative groan that came from him. " _Fuck…"_ he said between mouthfuls. "Never knew how much I missed this."

She smiled and pressed her lips to his forehead; a gesture that had come to mean _I love you_ for them.

"Eat up," she said. "I've got some rounds to make, and I need to talk to Abe, but I'll be back soon. He's looking at extending the fences. We'll be able to grow twice as much wheat which means that if I can get some extra help, we should be able to make enough bread to feed everyone here, _and_ have enough flour left over to trade with Hilltop. Maybe get you some butter to put on that toast."

"You do that, and you get your ass back here as quick as ya can."

"Oh?" she said. "I take you've got plans for today, then?"

His hand found her thigh and gently squeezed. "I can think of a coupla things I'd like to do."

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and she wound her hand into his hair, pulling him closer so that she could capture his lips in a kiss. "Won't be long," she said with a grin.

He watched her go, then slathered another generous helping of plum jam onto a piece of toast. He took the morsel and walked to the window to look out over the town. It had certainly changed a lot in the past three years. Eugene's photographic memory had come in handy when it came to planning and rebuilding the town; but his idea of building a windmill, and the knowledge of exactly _how_ to do it remembered from a book he had read years prior had surely been a stroke of genius. Many of the solar panels in town had been destroyed by Negan's final attack, but Eugene had solved the problem of electricity by hooking the windmill up to the generators. Following this, he remembered reading about how to sprout dried beans, and had managed germinate several soybean plants from a handful of beans found abandoned in a pantry on a run. The plants were thriving, meaning they had a ready supply of protein, and much to Michonne's delight, soy milk. And then to top it all off, he was now working on extracting the correct strains of mold grown from bread to start manufacturing penicillin. Yes, Eugene had absolutely proven his worth over and over again.

Daryl watched with a sense of pride as Carol walked from door to door, delivering a fresh loaf to each household. Aaron answered at the first house, his and Eric's adopted son, Elijah, clinging to his neck. A few months had passed since Daryl and Aaron had found the tiny child, barely eighteen months old, strapped in the wreckage of a crashed car; his parents had both been bitten, and had locked him safely in the car together with a letter begging anyone who found him to take care of him. The child had taken to Aaron immediately, and he and Eric had proven to be exceptional parents.

Next, she walked to the house Sasha shared with Abraham. Sasha answered and gratefully accepted the loaf that Carol had made. Daryl smiled to himself as he watched the two women share a conversation, Sasha throwing her head back in raucous laughter moments later. Sasha turned her head and called into the house, and after a few seconds Abraham appeared by her side. Carol spoke with him for several minutes before she moved on to the next house. Rick answered, and pulled her into a hug, conversing with her for a few moments before he and Carol disappeared into the house. She emerged again less than a minute later, a wide smile on her face.

As Carol walked past the graveyard, she paused briefly, then took something from her basket and placed it on one of the graves. She still honored little Sam Anderson after all these years by placing a cookie on his grave.

Daryl backed away from the window. It had been a long, long time since they had lost anyone; not since Negan's final assault. Spencer had been gunned down in the guard tower, and both Heath and Olivia had been caught in the first grenade blast, but Alexandria's losses had been minimal. Kingdom had suffered the heaviest losses, and Hilltop lost several people, but the vast majority of Alexandria's residents had miraculously survived. And since the last, terrible threat to their safety had been eliminated, and over time the walls rebuilt, they had been safe. They hadn't just survived. They had thrived.

But seeing Carol walk past the graveyard had sent an unexpected chill up Daryl's spine and reminded him of just how precious their time was. He opened his bedside drawer and pulled out a carefully folded bandana. He unwrapped this and gazed down at the piece of jewellery inside. He had been waiting to give it to her for her next birthday, but maybe there was no time like the present…

He heard movement from downstairs and quickly refolded the bandana, reverently placing it back inside his drawer, just as Carol returned to him.

"I've got something special for you," said Carol, smiling widely. "A couple of weeks ago, Rick and Rosita found a food truck. Everything was out of date and mostly useless, but there were a couple of things that were salvageable. And I asked Rick if I could put one of them aside for you."

His curiosity piqued, he took half a step closer to her. "What is it?" he asked.

She grinned and pulled a yellow-wrapped candy bar from her basket.

"Butterfinger?" he asked incredulously. "You're kiddin' me, right?

"Nope," she smiled. "It is out of date, but we figured there's probably enough sugar in it that it's been preserved."

He held the candy bar in his hands, turning it over several times. Candy had been a pretty unnecessary luxury before the end of the world, but Butterfingers had been a guilty pleasure. One evening, several months earlier, when Carol had been decrying the lack of chocolate at the end of the world, he had confessed to her how much he missed them. And now he held what was possibly the last one in existence.

"You wanna share it?" he asked, delicately unwrapping the end.

She considered the bar for a moment but said, "No. It's yours. But just so you know, if we ever come across any Caramellos, they're mine."

"Deal," he said taking a small bite, followed immediately by a much larger one. " _Fuck,"_ he uttered a split second later; the chocolate was every bit as sweet and creamy as he remembered, and his taste buds tingled in appreciation. The temptation to eat the whole lot in one go was almost overwhelming.

"There are a couple of other things downstairs for you. I hope you like them, because I didn't keep the receipts," she joked.

"I got presents?" he asked, amazed.

"Nothing big," she added, almost apologetically, but Daryl was amazed to receive anything at all.

He carefully rewrapped the remainder of the Butterfinger and placed it on top of his bedside drawer and opened his arms to her. "Come here," he said. She stepped forward into his waiting embrace and he ducked his head to capture her lips in a kiss.

Carol hummed her satisfaction, and deepened the kiss. "Damn, you taste good," she muttered as she ran her tongue just over the seam of his lips. "I have a feeling I might regret turning down your offer."

"It still stands," he said.

She glanced over towards the half-finished bar of chocolate but returned her gaze to him immediately. "No," she said, as she placed her palm on his chest, just over his heart. "It's yours. And you should save it for tonight. What's a movie without candy?"

A couple of months back, Tara had found a DVD projector and speakers together with a huge stash of DVDs while out on a run. It may not have been the most useful thing, but having a weekly movie night, with the film projected against the side of one of the houses, had proven to be a very welcome relief for most people; something fun and light hearted to bring a further sense of normalcy into their lives.

"What is it tonight?" he asked.

" _Love Actually,_ I think."

"Pfft. Fuck that. I ain't watching no dumbass romance shit."

"Hey," she said giving him a playful shove. "You were given the chance to chose tonight's movie, you don't get to complain."

Outside, the sound of a child's exuberant laughter caught their ears. Carl was watching over Judith who was chasing around after a fledgling bird that kept landing nearby. Daryl leaned his elbows down on the windowsill, enjoying the simple sight of the child's play.

"Who did choose it?" he asked. "So I know who to avoid."

"Michonne," said Carol. "Apparently one of the actors is the absolute double of Rick."

"Hormones got to her, huh? You'd think one Rick was more than enough."

Carol laughed beside him. "Maybe," she said. "I just can't believe there's going to be another baby Grimes running around soon."

A silence tinged with the edge of sadness fell between them; Daryl knew how much Carol would have loved to have a child with him now that it was safe to do so. Hell, he'd never considered the possibility even before the end of the world, and certainly hadn't after the Turn. But now… if they _could_ have had a child, he'd probably embrace the chance.

He slipped his hand through hers and drew small circles on the back with his thumb. "So, you wanna watch this movie then, huh?" he said quietly.

"Could be fun," she said.

"Alright," he agreed. "But if it's dull as shit, we're sneakin' away."

"Deal," she laughed. "But in the meantime, I've got another present for you."

"Somethin' else?" he asked, amazed. "I don't know where you're gettin' all this stuff from, or how you found the time to—"

But she silenced him with a kiss, and pushed against his chest, maneuvering him backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed, forcing him to sit down. Immediately she straddled his lap and continued to kiss him, then swiftly reached for the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head.

Her eyes roamed over his body hungrily, while he gazed up at her in awe. Even after three years of being— to all intents and purposes— married, he found it hard to accept that anyone could find his damaged body attractive, and so when her lips trailed a series of kisses down his neck and over his collarbone, lingering just a little longer over any scars she found, he had to remind himself over and over that this was real.

And when she pushed his cotton track pants down over his hips and knelt before him, taking him in her mouth, he felt as if his heart would burst from the overwhelming love he felt for her.

And as she licked and sucked him to completion, his climax crashing through his whole body and leaving him breathless and boneless, he knew that his earlier thoughts were right. There was no point waiting another moment to ask her.

He was dazed, his entire body still tingling, when Carol straddled him once more. He loosely wrapped his arms around and buried his face in the crook of her neck. His heart raced harder than ever; a combination of the afterglow of the orgasm still wracking his body, and the anxiety starting to build over the question he had to ask her.

"Carol," he breathed, taking himself by surprise, and causing his already pounding heart to leap into his throat.

"Mmm-hmm?" she hummed, gently trailing her fingers up and down his back.

"I got somethin' for ya."

"That's not how birthdays work, Daryl," she said.

"I know, but still… I got somethin' for ya."

He gently pushed against her so that she climbed off of him, pulled his track pants back on, and opened his bedside drawer. Too late now to change his mind, he picked up the folded bandana, and unwrapped the silver and jasper ring that had been protected within its folds. After taking several rings and necklaces from various walkers that he'd ended, he had taken the precious metal to the blacksmith in Hilltop, and given him the jasper stone. The blacksmith had melted the silver and taken a small piece of the jasper, and created something unique and new for him to give to her.

"I been thinking," he began, "you and me… I mean…I never thought I'd ever want to, but… I got ya this, if ya want to wear it." He knelt before her and placed the ring in the palm of her hand, closing her fingers over it. "And, well, I ain't gonna push ya or nothin', but… we could talk to Gabriel if ya wanted…make it official."

She opened her hand and gazed down at the silver ring, smiling through the happy tears that were already falling. Shaking, she placed it on the fourth finger of her left hand. "Yes," she said, her smile widening.

"You mean that?"

She looked him in the eyes and reached out to cup his cheek in her hand. He pressed his face into the soft warmth, and then she brought him closer, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "I do."


End file.
